1 82 1064 


RGARET 


YO 


POLLY  OF  THE  CIRCUS 


'And  he  didn't  care  about  you — like  that?" 
he  asked.  (p.  158) 


POLLY 
OF  THE  CIRCUS 

BY  MARGARET  MAYO 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY   HARRY  M.   BUNKER 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 
By  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

Published  September,  1908 


To  My 
'KLEINE  MUTTER" 


1824064 


Chapter  I 

THE  band  of  the  "Great  American  Circus"  was 
playing  noisily.  The  performance  was  in  full 
swing. 

Beside  a  shabby  trunk  in  the  women's  dressing 
tent  sat  a  young,  wistful-faced  girl,  chin  in 
hand,  unheeding  the  chatter  of  the  women  about 
her  or  the  picturesque  disarray  of  the  surround- 
ing objects.  Her  eyes  had  been  so  long  accus- 
tomed to  the  glitter  and  tinsel  of  circus  fineries 
that  she  saw  nothing  unusual  in  a  picture  that 
might  have  held  a  painter  spellbound. 

Circling  the  inside  of  the  tent  and  forming  a 
double  line  down  the  centre  were  partially  un- 
packed trunks  belching  forth  impudent  masses 
of  satins,  laces,  artificial  hair,  paper  flowers, 
and  paste  jewels.  The  scent  of  moist  earth 
mingled  oddly  with  the  perfumed  odours  of  the 
garments  heaped  on  the  grass.  Here  and  there 
high  circles  of  lights  threw  a  strong,  steady 
glare  upon  the  half-clad  figure  of  a  robust  acro- 
bat, or  the  thin,  drooping  shoulders  of  a  less 


2  Polly  of  the  Circus 

stalwart  sister.  Temporary  ropes  stretched 
from  one  pole  to  another,  were  laden  with  bright- 
coloured  stockings,  gaudy,  spangled  gowns,  or 
dusty  street  clothes,  discarded  by  the  perform- 
ers before  slipping  into  their  circus  attire.  There 
were  no  nails  or  hooks,  so  hats  and  veils  were 
pinned  to  the  canvas  walls. 

The  furniture  was  limited  to  one  camp  chair 
in  front  of  each  trunk,  the  till  of  which  served  as 
a  tray  for  the  paints,  powders  and  other  essen- 
tials of  "make-up." 

A  pail  of  water  stood  by  the  side  of  each  chair, 
so  that  the  performers  might  wash  the  delicately 
shaded  tights,  handkerchiefs  and  other  small 
articles  not  to  be  entrusted  to  the  slow,  careless 
process  of  the  village  laundry.  Some  of  these 
had  been  washed  to-night  and  hung  to  dry  on 
the  lines  between  the  dusty  street  garments. 

Women  whose  "turns"  came  late  sat  about 
half-clothed  reading,  crocheting  or  sewing, 
while  others  added  pencilled  eyebrows,  powder  or 
rouge  to  their  already  exaggerated  "make-ups." 
Here  and  there  a  child  was  putting  her  sawdust 
baby  to  sleep  in  the  till  of  her  trunk,  before 
beginning  her  part  in  the  evening's  entertain- 


Polly  of  the  Circus  3 

ment.  Young  and  old  went  about  their  duties 
with  a  systematic,  business-like  air,  and  even  the 
little  knot  of  excited  women  near  Polly — it 
seemed  that  one  of  the  men  had  upset  a  circus 
tradition — kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  their  "turns." 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  Polly?"  asked  a 
handsome  brunette,  as  she  surveyed  herself  in  the 
costume  of  a  Roman  charioteer. 

"About  what?"  asked  Polly  vacantly. 

"Leave  Poll  alone ;  she's  in  one  of  her  trances !" 
called  a  motherly,  good-natured  woman  whose 
trunk  stood  next  to  Polly's,  and  whose  business 
was  to  support  a  son  and  three  daughters  upon 
stalwart  shoulders,  both  figuratively  and  liter- 
ally. 

"Well,  7  ain't  in  any  trance,"  answered  the 
dark  girl,  "and  /  think  it's  pretty  tough  for  him 
to  take  up  with  a  rank  outsider,  and  expect  us  to 
warm  up  to  her  as  though  he'd  married  one  of 
our  own  folks."  She  tossed  her  head,  the  pride 
of  class  distinction  welling  high  in  her  ample 
bosom. 

"He  ain't  asking  us  to  warm  up  to  her,"  con- 
tradicted Mademoiselle  Eloise,  a  pale,  light- 
haired  sprite,  who  had  arrived  late  and  was 


4  Polly  of  the  Circus 

making  undignified  efforts  to  get  out  of  her 
clothes  by  way  of  her  head.  She  was  Polly's 
understudy  and  next  in  line  for  the  star  place  in 
the  bill. 

"Well,  Barker  has  put  her  into  the  'Leap  of 
Death'  stunt,  ain't  he?"  continued  the  brunette. 
"  'Course  that  ain't  a  regular  circus  act,"  she 
added,  somewhat  mollified,  "and  so  far  she's  had 
to  dress  with  the  'freaks,'  but  the  next  thing  we 
know,  he'll  be  ringin'  her  in  on  a  regular  stunt 
and  be  puttin'  her  in  to  dress  with  us."  . 

"No  danger  of  that,"  sneered  the  blonde; 
"Barker  is  too  old  a  stager  to  mix  up  his  sheep 
and  his  goats." 

Polly  had  again  lost  the  thread  of  the  con- 
versation. Her  mind  had  gone  roving  to  the 
night  when  the  frightened  girl  about  whom  they 
were  talking  had  made  her  first  appearance  in 
the  circus  lot,  clinging  timidly  to  the  hand  of 
the  man  who  had  just  made  her  his  wife.  Her 
eyes  had  met  Polly's,  with  a  look  of  appeal  that 
had  gone  straight  to  the  child's  simple  heart. 

A  few  nights  later  the  newcomer  had  allowed 
herself  to  be  strapped  into  the  cumbersome 
"Leap  of  Death"  machine  which  hurled  itself 


Polly  of  the  Circus  5 

through  space  at  each  performance,  and  flung 
itself  down  with  force  enough  to  break  the  neck 
of  any  unskilled  rider.  Courage  and  steady 
nerve  were  the  requisites  for  the  job,  so  the 
manager  had  said;  but  any  physician  would 
have  told  him  that  only  a  trained  acrobat  could 
long  endure  the  nervous  strain,  the  muscular 
tension,  and  the  physical  rack  of  such  an  ordeal. 

What  matter?  The  few  dollars  earned  in  this 
way  would  mean  a  great  deal  to  the  mother, 
whom  the  girl's  marriage  had  left  desolate. 

Polly  had  looked  on  hungrily  the  night  that 
the  mother  had  taken  the  daughter  in  her  arms 
to  say  farewell  in  the  little  country  town  where 
the  circus  had  played  before  her  marriage.  She 
could  remember  no  woman's  arms  about  her,  for 
it  was  fourteen  years  since  tender  hands  had 
carried  her  mother  from  the  performers'  tent 
into  the  moonlit  lot  to  die.  The  baby  was  so 
used  to  seeing  "Mumsie"  throw  herself  wearily 
on  the  ground  after  coming  out  of  the  "big 
top"  exhausted,  that  she  crept  to  the  woman's 
side  as  usual  that  night,  and  gazed  laughingly 
into  the  sightless  eyes,  gurgling  and  prattling 
and  stroking  the  unresponsive  face.  There 


6  Polly  of  the  Circus 

were  tears  from  those  who  watched,  but  no  word 
was  spoken. 

Clown  Toby  and  the  big  "boss  canvas-man" 
Jim  had  always  taken  turns  amusing  and 
guarding  little  Polly,  while  her  mother  rode  in 
the  ring.  So  Toby  now  carried  the  babe  to  an- 
other side  of  the  lot,  and  Jim  bore  the  lifeless 
body  of  the  mother  to  the  distant  ticket-wagon, 
now  closed  for  the  night,  and  laid  it  upon  the 
seller's  cot. 

"It's  allus  like  this  in  the  end,"  he  murmured, 
as  he  drew  a  piece  of  canvas  over  the  white 
face  and  turned  away  to  give  orders  to  the  men 
who  were  beginning  to  load  the  "props"  used 
earlier  in  the  performance. 

When  the  show  moved  on  that  night  it  was 
Jim's  strong  arms  that  lifted  the  mite  of  a 
Polly  close  to  his  stalwart  heart,  and  climbed 
with  her  to  the  high  seat  on  the  head  wagon. 
Uncle  Toby  was  entrusted  with  the  brown 
satchel  in  which  the  mother  had  always  carried 
Polly's  scanty  wardrobe.  It  seemed  to  these 
two  men  that  the  eyes  of  the  woman  were  fixed 
steadily  upon  them. 

Barker,   the  manager,   a  large,   noisy,   good- 


Folly  of  the  Circus  7 

natured  fellow,  at  first  mumbled  something 
about  the  kid  being  "excess  baggage,"  but  his 
objections  were  only  half-hearted,  for  like  the 
others,  he  was  already  under  the  hypnotic  spell 
of  the  baby's  round,  confiding  eyes,  and  he 
eventually  contented  himself  with  an  occasional 
reprimand  to  Toby,  who  was  now  sometimes  late 
on  his  cues.  Polly  wondered,  at  these  times, 
why  the  old  man's  stories  were  so  suddenly  cut 
short  just  as  she  was  so  "comfy"  in  the  soft  grass 
at  his  feet.  The  boys  who  used  to  "look  sharp" 
because  of  their  boss  at  loading  time,  now 
learned  that  they  might  loiter  so  long  as  "Muvver 
Jim"  was  "hikin'  it  round  for  the  kid."  It  was 
Polly  who  had  dubbed  big  Jim  "Muvver,"  and 
the  sobriquet  had  stuck  to  liim  in  spite  of  his 
six  feet  two,  and  shoulders  that  an  athlete  might 
have  envied.  Little  by  little,  Toby  grew  more 
stooped  and  small  lines  of  anxiety  crept  into  the 
brownish  circles  beneath  Jim's  eyes,  the  lips  that 
had  once  shut  so  firmly  became  tender  and  trem- 
ulous, but  neither  of  the  men  would  willingly 
have  gone  back  to  the  old  emptiness. 

It  was  a  red  letter  day  in  the  circus,  when  Polly 
first  managed  to  climb  up  on  the  pole  of  an  un- 


8  Polly  of  the  Circus 

hitched  wagon  and  from  there  to  the  back  of  a 
friendly,  Shetland  pony.  Jim  and  Toby  had 
been  "neglectin'  her  eddication"  they  declared, 
and  from  that  time  on,  the  blood  of  Polly's  an- 
cestors was  given  full  encouragement. 

Barker  was  quick  to  grasp  the  advantage  of 
adding  the  kid  to  the  daily  parade.  She  made 
her  first  appearance  in  the  streets  upon  some- 
thing very  like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  guarded 
from  the  rear  by  Jim,  and  from  the  fore  by  a 
white-faced  clown  who  was  thought  to  be  all  the 
funnier  because  he  twisted  his  neck  so  much. 

From  the  street  parade  to  Polly's  first  appear- 
ance in  the  "big  top,"  had  seemed  a  short  while 
to  Jim  and  Toby.  They  were  proud  to  see  her 
circling  the  ring  in  bright  colours  and  to  hear 
the  cheers  of  the  people,  but  a  sense  of  loss  was 
upon  them. 

"I  always  said  she'd  do  it,"  cried  Barker,  who 
now  took  upon  himself  the  credit  of  Polly's 
triumph. 

And  what  a  triumph  it  was ! 

Polly  danced  as  serenely  on  Bingo's  back  as 
she  might  have  done  on  the  "concert  boards." 
She  swayed  gracefully  with  the  music.  Her  tiny 


Polly  of  the  Circus  9 

sandals  twinkled  as  she  stood  first  upon  one  foot 
and  then  upon  the  other. 

Uncle  Toby  forgot  to  use  many  of  his  tricks 
that  night ;  and  Jim  left  the  loading  of  jthe 
wagons  to  take  care  of  itself,  while  he  hovered 
near  the  entrance,  anxious  and  breathless.  The 
performers  crowded  around  the  girl  with  out- 
stretched hands  and  congratulations,  as  she  came 
out  of  the  ring  to  cheers  and  applause. 

But  Big  Jim  stood  apart.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  buttons  that  his  clumsy  fingers  used  to  force 
into  the  stiff,  starchy  holes  too  small  for  them 
and  of  the  pigtails  so  stubborn  at  the  ends ;  and 
Toby  was  remembering  the  little  shoes  that  had 
once  needed  to  be  laced  in  the  cold,  dark  morn- 
ings, and  the  strings  that  were  always  snapping. 

Something  had  gone. 

They  were  not  philosophers  to  reason  like 
Emerson,  that  for  everything  we  lose  we  gain 
something;  they  were  simple  souls,  these  two, 
they  could  only  feel. 


Chapter  II 

WHILE  Polly  sat  in  the  dressing  tent,  listening 
indifferently  to  the  chatter  about  the  "Leap  of 
Death"  girl,  Jim  waited  in  the  lot  outside,  open- 
ing and  shutting  a  small,  leather  bag  which  he 
had  bought  for  her  that  day.  He  was  as  blind 
to  the  picturesque  outdoor  life  as  she  to  her 
indoor  surroundings,  for  he,  too,  had  been  with 
the  circus  since  his  earliest  recollection. 

The  grass  enclosure,  where  he  waited,  was 
shut  in  by  a  circle  of  tents  and  wagons.  The 
great,  red  property  vans  were  waiting  to  be 
loaded  with  the  costumes  and  tackle  which  were 
constantly  being  brought  from  the  "big  top," 
where  the  evening  performance  was  now  going 
on.  The  gay  striped  curtains  at  the  rear  of 
the  tent  were  looped  back  to  give  air  to  the  pant- 
ing musicians,  who  sat  just  inside.  Through 
the  opening,  a  glimpse  of  the  audience  might  be 
had,  tier  upon  tier,  fanning  and  shifting  un- 
easily. Near  the  main  tent  stood  the  long,  low 
dressing  "top,"  with  the  women  performers 


Polly  of  the  Circus  11 

stowed  away  in  one  end,  the  "ring  horses"  in  the 
centre,  and  the  men  performers  in  the  other  end. 

A  temporary  curtain  was  hung  between  the 
main  and  the  dressing  tent,  to  shut  out  the 
curious  mob  that  tried  to  peep  in  at  the  back 
lot  for  a  glimpse  of  things  not  to  be  seen  in  the 
ring. 

Coloured  streamers,  fastened  to  the  roofs  of 
the  tents,  waved  and  floated  in  the  night  air  and 
beckoned  to  the  towns-people  on  the  other  side 
to  make  haste  to  get  their  places,  forget  their 
cares,  and  be  children  again. 

Over  the  tops  of  the  tents,  the  lurid  light  of  the 
distant  red  fire  shot  into  the  sky,  accompanied 
by  the  cries  of  the  peanut  "butchers,"  the  pop- 
corn boys,  the  lemonade  venders,  and  the  ex- 
hortations of  the  side-show  "spieler,"  whose  fly- 
ing banners  bore  the  painted  reproductions  of 
his  "freaks."  Here  and  there  stood  unhitched 
chariots,  half  filled  trunks,  trapeze  tackle,  paper 
hoops,  stake  pullers  or  other  "properties" 
necessary  to  the  show. 

Torches  flamed  at  the  tent  entrances,  while  oil 
lamps  and  lanterns  gave  light  for  the  loading  of 
the  wagons. 


12  Polly  of  the  Circus 

There  was  a  constant  stream  of  life  shooting 
in  and  out  from  the  dressing  tent  to  the  "big 
top,"  as  gaily  decked  men,  women  and  animals 
came  or  went. 

Drowsy  dogs  were  stretched  under  the  wagons, 
waiting  their  turn  to  be  dressed  as  lions  or  bears. 
The  wise  old  goose,  with  his  modest  grey  mate, 
pecked  at  the  green  grass  or  turned  his  head 
from  side  to  side,  watching  the  singing  clown, 
who  rolled  up  the  painted  carcass  and  long  neck 
of  the  imitation  giraffe  from  which  two  property 
men  had  just  slipped,  their  legs  still  encased  in 
stripes. 

Ambitious  canvas-men  and  grooms  were  exer- 
cising, feet  in  air,  in  the  hope  of  some  day  get- 
ting into  the  performers'  ring.  Property  men 
stole  a  minute's  sleep  in  the  soft  warm  grass 
while  they  waited  for  more  tackle  to  load  in  the 
wagons.  Children  of  the  performers  were  swing- 
ing on  the  tent  ropes,  chattering  monkeys  sat 
astride  the  Shetland  ponies,  awaiting  their  en- 
trance to  the  ring.  The  shrieks  of  the  hyenas 
in  the  distant  animal  tent,  the  roaring  of  the 
lions  and  the  trumpeting  of  the  elephants  min- 
gled with  the  incessant  clamour  of  the  band. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  13 

And  back  of  all  this,  pointing  upward  in  mute 
protest,  rose  a  solemn  church  spire,  white  and 
majestic  against  a  vast  panorama  of  blue,  moon- 
lit hills,  that  encircled  the  whole  lurid  picture. 
Jim's  eyes  turned  absently  toward  the  church  as 
he  sat  fumbling  with  the  lock  of  the  little  brown 
satchel. 

He  had  gone  from  store  to  store  in  the  various 
towns  where  they  had  played  looking  for  some- 
thing to  inspire  wonder  in  the  heart  of  a  miss, 
newly  arrived  at  her  sixteenth  year.  Only  the 
desperation  of  a  last  moment  had  forced  him  to 
decide  upon  the  imitation  alligator  bag,  which 
he  now  held  in  his  hand. 

It  looked  small  and  mean  to  him  as  the  momenb 
of  presentation  approached,  and  he  was  glad 
that  the  saleswoman  in  the  little  country  store 
had  suggested  the  addition  of  ribbons  and  laces, 
I  which  he  now  drew  from  the  pocket  of  his  cordu- 
j  ro}'s.     He  placed  his  red  and  blue  treasures  very 
\  carefully  in  the  bottom  of  the  satchel,  and  re- 
membered with  regret  the  strand  of  coral  beads 
which  he  had  so  nearly  bought  to  go  with  them. 
He  opened  the  large  property  trunk  by  his 
side,  and  took  from  it.  a  laundry  box,  which  held 


14  Polly  of  the  Circus 

a  little  tan  coat,  that  was  to  be  Toby's  contri- 
bution to  the  birthday  surprise.  He  was  big- 
hearted  enough  to  be  glad  that  Toby's  gift 
seemed  finer  and  more  useful  than  his. 

It  was  only  when  the  "Leap  of  Death"  act 
preceding  Polly's  turn  was  announced,  that  the 
big  fellow  gave  up  feasting  his  eyes  on  the 
satchel  and  coat,  and  hid  them  away  in  the  big 
property  trunk.  She  would  be  out  in  a  minute, 
and  these  wonders  were  not  to  be  revealed  to  her 
until  the  close  of  the  night's  performance. 

Jim  put  down  the  lid  of  the  trunk  and  sat  upon 
it,  feeling  like  a  criminal  because  he  was  hiding 
something  from  Polly. 

His  consciousness  of  guilt  was  increased  as  he 
recalled  how  often  she  had  forbidden  Toby  and 
himself  to  rush  into  reckless  extravagances  for 
her  sake,  and  how  she  had  been  more  nearly 
angry  than  he  had  ever  seen  her,  when  they  had 
put  their  month's  salaries  together  to  buy  her 
the  spangled  dress  for  her  first  appearance.  It 
had  taken  a  great  many  apologies  and  promises 
as  to  their  future  behaviour  to  calm  her,  and  now 
they  had  again  disobeyed  her.  It  would  be  a 
great  relief  when  to-night's  ordeal  was  over. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  15 

Jim  watched  Polly  uneasily  as  she  came  from 
the  dressing  tent  and  stopped  to  gaze  at  the 
nearby  church  steeple.  The  incongruity  of  the 
slang,  that  soon  came  from  her  delicately  formed 
lips,  was  lost  upon  him  as  she  turned  her  eyes 
toward  him. 

"Say,  Jim,"  she  said,  with  a  Western  drawl, 
"them's  a  funny  lot  of  guys  what  goes  to  them 
church  places,  ain't  they?" 

"Most  everybody  has  got  some  kind  of  a  bug," 
Jim  assented;  "I  guess  they  don't  do  much 
harm." 

"  'Member  the  time  you  took  me  into  one  of 
them  places  to  get  me  out  a  the  rain,  the  Sun- 
day our  wagon  broke  down?  Well,  that  bunch 
"we  butted  into  wouldn't  a  give  Sell's  Brothers 
no  cause  for  worry  with  that  show  a'  theirn, 
would  they,  Jim?"  She  looked  at  him  with 
withering  disgust.  "Say,  wasn't  that  the  punki- 
est  stunt  that  fellow  in  black  was  doin'  on  the 
platform?  You  said  Joe  was  only  ten  minutes 
gettin'  the  tire  onto  our  wheel,  but  say,  you 
take  it  from  me,  Jim,  if  I  had  to  wait  another 
ten  minutes  as  long  as  that  one,  I'd  be  too  old 
to  go  on  a-ridin'." 


16  Polly  of  the  Circus 

Jim  "  'lowed"  some  church  shows  might  be  bet- 
ter than  "that  un,"  but  Polly  said  he  could  have 
her  end  of  the  bet,  and  summed  up  by  declaring 
it  no  wonder  that  the  yaps  in  these  towns  was 
daffy  about  circuses,  if  they  didn't  have  nothin' 
better  an'  church  shows  to  go  to. 

One  of  the  grooms  was  entering  the  lot  with 
Polly's  horse.  She  stooped  to  tighten  one  of 
her  sandals,  and  as  she  rose,  Jim  saw  her  sway 
slightly  and  put  one  hand  to  her  head.  He 
looked  at  her  sharply,  remembering  her  faint- 
ness  in  the  parade  that  morning. 

"You  ain't  feeling  right,"  he  said  uneasily. 

"You  just  bet  I  am,"  Poll}'  answered  with  an 
independent  toss  of  her  head.  "This  is  the  night 
we're  goin'  to  make  them  rubes  in  there  sit  up, 
ain't  it,  Bingo?"  she  added,  placing  one  arm 
affectionately  about  the  neck  of  the  big,  white 
horse  that  stood  waiting  near  the  entrance. 

"You  bin  ridin'  too  reckless  lately,"  said  Jim, 
sternly,  as  he  followed  her.  "I  don't  like  it. 
There  ain't  no  need  of  your  puttin'  in  all  them 
extra  stunts.  Your  act  is  good  enough  without 
'em.  Nobody  else  ever  done  'em,  an'  nobody'd 
miss  'em  if  you  left  'em  out." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  17 

Polly  turned  with  a  triumphant  ring  in  her 
voice.  The  music  was  swelling  for  her  entrance. 

"You  ain't  my  mother,  Jim,  you're  my  grand- 
mother,"  she  taunted;  and,  with  a  crack  of  her 
whip  she  was  away  on  Bingo's  back. 

"It's  the  spirit  of  the  dead  one  that's  got  into 
her,"  Jim  mumbled  as  he  turned  away,  still  see- 
ing the  flash  in  the  departing  girl's  eyes. 


Chapter  III 

POLLY  and  Bingo  always  made  the  audience  "sit 
up"  when  they  swept  into  the  ring.  She  was  so 
young,  so  gaily  clad,  so  light  and  joyous  in  all 
her  poses.  She  seemed  scarcely  to  touch  the 
back  of  the  white  horse,  as  they  dashed  round  the 
ring  in  the  glare  of  the  tent  lights.  The  other 
performers  went  through  their  work  mechani- 
cally while  Polly  rode,  for  they  knew  the  audi- 
ence was  watching  her  only. 

As  for  Polly,  her  work  had  never  lost  its  first 
interest.  Jim  may  have  been  right  when  he  said 
that  the  spirit  of  the  dead  mother  had  got  into 
her;  but  it  must  have  been  an  unsatisfied  spirit, 
unable  to  fulfil  its  ambition  in  the  body  that 
once  held  it,  for  it  sometimes  played  strange 
pranks  with  Polly.  To-night,  her  eyes  shone 
and  her  lips  were  parted  in  anticipation,  as  she 
leaped  lightly  over  the  many  coloured  streamers 
of  the  wheel  of  silken  ribbons  held  by  Barker  in 
the  centre  of  the  ring,  and  by  Toby  and  the 
"tumblers"  on  the  edge  of  the  bank. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  19 

With  each  change  of  her  act,  the  audience 
cheered  and  frantically  applauded.  The  band 
played  faster;  Bingo's  pace  increased;  the  end 
of  her  turn  was  coming.  The  "tumblers"  ar- 
ranged themselves  around  the  ring  with  paper 
hoops ;  Bingo  was  fairly  racing.  She  went 
through  the  first  hoop  with  a  crash  of  tearing 
paper  and  cheers  from  the  audience. 

"Heigh,  Bingo !"  she  shouted,  as  she  bent  her 
knees  to  make  ready  for  the  final  leap. 

Bingo's  neck  was  stretched.  He  had  never 
gone  so  fast  before.  Barker  looked  uneasy. 
Toby  forgot  to  go  on  with  his  accustomed  tricks. 
Jim  watched  anxiously  from  the  entrance. 

The  paper  of  one  hoop  was  still  left  unbroken. 
The  attendant  turned  his  eyes  to  glance  at  the 
oncoming  girl;  the  hoop  shifted  slightly  in  his 
clumsy  hand  as  Polly  leapt  straight  up  from 
Bingo's  back,  trusting  to  her  first  calculation. 
Her  forehead  struck  the  edge  of  the  hoop.  She 
clutched  wildly  at  the  air.  Bingo  galloped  on, 
and  she  fell  to  the  ground,  striking  her  head 
against  the  iron-bound  stake  at  the  edge  of  the 
ring. 

Everything  stopped.  There  was  a  gasp  of  hor- 


20  Polly  of  the  Circus 

ror ;  the  musicians  dropped  their  instruments ; 
Bingo  halted  and  looked  back  uneasily ;  she  lay 
unconscious  and  seemingly  lifeless. 

A  great  cry  went  up  in  the  tent.  Panic- 
stricken,  men,  women  and  children  began  to 
clamber  down  from  their  seats,  while  others 
nearest  the  ground  attempted  to  jump  into  the 
ring.  Barker,  still  grasping  his  long  whip, 
rushed  to  the  girl's  side,  and  shouted  wildly  to 
Toby: 

"Say  something,  you.     Get  'em  back !" 

Old  Toby  turned  his  white  face  to  the  crowd, 
his  features  worked  convulsively,  but  he  could 
not  speak.  His  grief  was  so  grotesque,  that  the 
few  who  saw  him  laughed  hysterically.  He  could 
not  even  go  to  Polly,  his  feet  seemed  pinned  to 
the  earth. 

Jim  rushed  into  the  tent  at  the  first  cry  of  the 
audience.  He  lifted  the  limp  form  tenderly,  and 
kneeling  in  the  ring  held  her  bruised  head  in  his 
hands. 

"Can't  you  get  a  doctor!"  he  shouted  desper- 
ately to  Barker. 

"Here's  the  doctor!"  some  one  called;  and  a 
stranger  came  toward  them.  He  bent  over  the 


Polly  of  the  Circus  21 

seemingly  lifeless  form,  his  fingers  on  the  tiny 
wrist,  his  ear  to  the  heart. 

"Well,  sir?"  Jim  faltered,  for  he  had  caught 
the  puzzled  look  in  the  doctor's  eyes  as  his  deft 
hand  pressed  the  cruelly  wounded  head. 

"I  can't  tell  just  yet,"  said  the  doctor.  "She 
must  be  taken  away." 

"Where  can  we  take  her?"  asked  Jim,  a  look 
of  terror  in  his  great,  troubled  eyes. 

"The  parsonage  is  the  nearest  house,"  said  the 
doctor.  "I  am  sure  the  pastor  will  be  glad  to 
have  her  there  until  we  can  find  out  how  badly 
she  is  hurt." 

In  an  instant  Barker  was  back  in  the  centre 
of  the  ring.  He  announced  that  Polly's  injuries 
were  slight,  called  the  attention  of  the  audience 
to  the  wonderful  concert  to  take  place,  and 
bade  them  make  ready  for  the  thrilling  chariot 
race  which  would  end  the  show. 

Jim,  blind  with  despair,  lifted  the  light  burden 
and  staggered  out  of  the  tent,  while  the  band 
played  furiously  and  the  people  fell  back  into 
their  seats.  The  Roman  chariots  thundered  and 
clattered  around  the  outside  of  the  ring,  the 
audience  cheered  the  winner  of  the  race,  and 
for  the  moment  Polly  was  forgotten. 


Chapter  IV 

THE  blare  of  the  circus  band  had  been  a  sore 
temptation  to  Mandy  Jones  all  afternoon  and 
evening.  Again  and  again  it  had  dragged  her 
from  her  work  to  the  study  window,  from  which 
she  could  see  the  wonders  so  tantalisingly  near. 
Mandy  was  housekeeper  for  the  Rev.  John 
Douglas,  but  the  unwashed  supper  dishes  did 
not  trouble  her,  as  she  watched  the  lumbering 
elephants,  the  restless  lions,  the  long-necked  gi- 
raffes and  the  striped  zebras,  that  came  and  went 
in  the  nearby  circus  lot.  And  yet,  in  spite  of 
her  own  curiosity,  she  could  not  forgive  her 
vagrant  "worse  half,"  Hasty,  who  had  been 
lured  from  duty  early  in  the  day.  She  had  once 
dubbed  him  Hasty,  in  a  spirit  of  derision,  and 
the  name  had  clung  to  him.  The  sarcasm 
seemed  doubty  appropriate  to-night,  for  he  had 
been  away  since  ten  that  morning,  and  it  was 
now  past  nine. 

The   young   pastor   for    a   time   had   enjoyed 
Mandy's  tirades  against  her  husband,  but  when 


' 


Polly  of  the  Circus  25 

she  began  calling  shrilly  out  of  the  window  to 
chance  acquaintances  for  news  of  him,  he  slipped 
quietly  into  the  next  room  to  finish  to-morrow's 
sermon.  Mandy  renewed  her  operations  at  the 
window  with  increased  vigour  when  the  pastor 
had  gone.  She  was  barely  saved  from  pitching 
head  foremost  into  the  lot,  by  the  timely  arrival 
of  Deacon  Strong's  daughter,  who  managed, 
with  difficulty,  to  connect  the  excited  woman's 
feet  with  the  floor. 

"Foh  de  Lor'  sake!"  Mandy  gasped,  as  she 
stood  panting  for  breath  and  blinking  at  the 
pretty,  young,  apple-faced  Julia;  "I  was  suah 
most  gone  dat  time."  Then  followed  another 
outburst  against  the  delinquent  Hasty. 

But  the  deacon's  daughter  did  not  hear ;  her 
eyes  were  already  wandering  anxiously  to  the 
lights  and  the  tinsel  of  the  little  world  beyond 
the  window. 

This  was  not  the  first  time  to-day  that  Mandy 
had  found  herself  talking  to  space.  There  had 
been  a  steady  stream  of  callers  at  the  parsonage 
since  eleven  that  morning,  but  she  had  long  ago 
confided  to  the  pastor  that  she  suspected  their 
reasons. 


24  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Dey  comes  in  here  a-trackin'  up  my  floors," 
she  said,  "and  a-askin'  why  you  don'  stop  de  cir- 
cus from  a-showin'  nex'  to  de  church  and  den 
a-cranin'  dar  necks  out  de  winder,  till  I  can't 
get  no  housework  done." 

"That's  only  human  nature,"  Douglas  had  an- 
swered with  a  laugh ;  but  Mandy  had  declared 
that  she  knew  another  name  for  it,  and  had 
mumbled  something  about  "hypocritters,"  as 
she  seized  her  broom  and  began  to  sweep  imag- 
inary tracks  from  in  front  of  the  door. 

Many  times  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  let 
the  next  caller  know  just  what  she  thought  of 
"hypocritters,"  but  her  determination  was  usu- 
ally weakened  by  her  still  greater  desire  to  ex- 
cite increased  wonder  in  the  faces  of  her  visitors. 

Divided  between  these  two  inclinations,  she 
gazed  at  Julia  now ;  the  shining  eyes  of  the  dea- 
con's daughter  conquered,  and  she  launched 
forth  into  an  eager  description  of  how  she  had 
just  seen  a  "wondeful  striped  anamule"  with 
a  "pow'ful  long  neck  walk  right  out  of  the 
tent,"  and  how  he  had  "come  apart  afore  her 
very  eyes,"  and  two  men  had  slipped  "right  out 
&'  his  Jnsides."  Mandy  was  so  carried  away  by 


Polly  of  the  Circus  25 

her  own  eloquence  and  so  busy  showing  Julia 
the  sights  beyond  the  window,  that  she  did  not 
hear  Miss  Perkins,  the  thin-lipped  spinster,  who 
entered,  followed  by  the  Widow  Willoughby 
dragging  her  seven-year-old  son  Willie  by  the 
hand. 

The  women  were  protesting  because  their  choir 
practice  of  "What  Shall  the  Harvest  Be?"  had 
been  interrupted  by  the  unrequested  acompani- 
ment  of  the  "hoochie  coochie"  from  the  nearby 
circus  band. 

"It's  scandalous !"  Miss  Perkins  snapped. 
"Scandalous !  And  somebody  ought  to  stop  it." 
She  glanced  about  with  an  unmistakable  air  of 
grievance  at  the  closed  doors,  -feeling  that  the 
pastor  was  undoubtedly  behind  one  of  them, 
when  he  ought  to  be  out  taking  action  against 
the  things  that  her  soul  abominated. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I've  done  all  that  7  could," 
piped  the  widow,  with  a  meek,  martyred  air.  She 
was  always  martyred.  She  considered  it  an  ap- 
propriate attitude  for  a  widow.  "He  can't 
blame  me  if  the  choir  is  out  of  key  to-morrow." 

"Mercy  me !"  interrupted  the  spinster,  "if  there 
isn't  Julia  Strong  a-leaning  right  out  of  that 


26  Polly  of  the  Circus 

window  a-looking  at  the  circus,  and  her  pa  a 
deacon  of  the  church,  and  this  the  house  of  the 
pastor.  It's  shocking!  I  must  go  to  her." 

"Ma,  let  me  see,  too,"  begged  Willie,  as  he 
tugged  at  his  mother's  skirts. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  hesitated.  Miss  Perkins  was 
certainly  taking  a  long  while  for  her  argument 
with  Julia.  The  glow  from  the  red  powder  out- 
side the  window  was  positively  alarming. 

"Dear  me !"  she  said,  "I  wonder  if  there  can  be 
a  fire."  And  with  this  pretext  for  investigation, 
she,  too,  joined  the  little  group  at  the  window. 

A  few  moments  later  when  Douglas  entered 
for  a  fresh  supply  of  paper,  the  backs  of  the 
company  were  toward  him.  He  crossed  to  the 
study  table  without  disturbing  his  visitors,  and 
smiled  to  himself  at  the  eager  way  in  which  they 
were  hanging  out  of  the  window. 

Douglas  was  a  sturdy  young  man  of  eight  and 
twenty,  frank  and  boyish  in  manner,  confident 
and  light-hearted  in  spirit.  He  had  seemed  too 
young  to  the  deacons  when  he  was  appointed 
to  their  church,  and  his  keen  enjoyment  of  out- 
door games  and  other  healthful  sports  robbed 
him  of  a  certain  dignity  in  their  eyes.  Some  of 


Polly  of  the  Circus  27 

the  women  of  the  congregation  had  been  in- 
clined to  side  with  the  deacons,  for  it  hurt  their 
vanity  that  the  pastor  found  so  many  other  in- 
terests when  he  might  have  been  sitting  in  dark, 
stuffy  rooms  discussing  theology  with  them; 
but  Douglas  had  been  either  unconscious  of  or 
indifferent  to  their  resentment,  and  had  gone  on 
his  way  with  a  cheery  nod  and  an  unconquerable 
conviction  of  right,  that  had  only  left  them 
floundering.  He  intended  to  quit  the  room  now 
unnoticed,  but  was  unfortunate  enough  to  upset 
a  chair  as  he  turned  from  the  table.  This 
brought  a  chorus  of  exclamations  from  the 
women,  who  chattering  rushed  quickly  toward 
him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  naughty  boy, 
Willie?"  simpered  the  widow.  "He  dragged  me 
quite  to  the  window." 

Douglas  glanced  amusedly  first  at  the  five- 
foot-six  widow  and  then  at  the  helpless,  red- 
haired  urchin  by  her  side,  but  he  made  no  com- 
ment beyond  offering  a  chair  to  each  of  the 
women. 

"Our  choir  practice  had  to  be  entirely  discon- 
tinued," declared  Miss  Perkins  sourly,  as  she 


28  Polly  of  the  Circus 

accepted  the  proffered  chair,  adjusted  her  skirts 
for  a  stay,  and  glanced  defiantly  at  the  parson, 
who  had  dutifully  seated  himself  near  the  table. 

•/ 

"I  am  sure  /  have  as  true  an  ear  as  anybody," 
whimpered  the  widow,  with  an  injured  air;  "but 
I  defy  any  one  to  lead  'What  Shall  the  Harvest 
Be?'  to  an  accompaniment  like  that"  She 
jerked  her  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  window. 
The  band  was  again  playing  the  "hoochie 
coochie." 

"Never  mind  about  the  choir  practice,"  said 
Douglas,  with  a  smile.  "It  is  soul  not  skill  that 
our  congregation  needs  in  its  music.  As  for 
that  music  out  there,  it  is  not  without  its  com- 
pensations. Why,  the  small  boys  would  rather 
hear  that  band  than  the  finest  church  organ  in 
the  world." 

"And  the  small  boys  would  rather  see  the  cir- 
cus than  to  hear  you  preach,  most  likely," 
snapped  Miss  Perkins.  It  was  adding  insult  to 
injury  for  him  to  try  to  console  her. 

"Of  course  they  would;  and  so  would  some  of 
the  grown-ups  if  they'd  only  tell  the  truth  about 
it,"  said  Douglas,  laughing. 

"What !"  exclaimed  Miss  Perkins. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  29 

"Why  not?"  asked  Douglas.  "I  am  sure  I 
don't  know  what  they  do  inside  the  tents,  but 
the  parade  looked  very  promising." 

"The  parad-el"  the  two  women  echoed  in  one 
breath.  "Did  you  see  the  parade?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Douglas,  enthusiastically. 
"But  it  didn't  compare  with  the  one  I  saw  at  the 
age  of  eight."  He  turned  his  head  to  one  side 
and  looked  into  space  with  a  reminiscent  smile. 
The  widow's  red-haired  boy  crept  close  to  him. 

"The  Shetland  ponies  seemed  as  small  as  mice," 
he  continued,  dreamily,  "the  elephants  huge  as 
mountains,  the  great  calliope  wafted  my  soul  to 
the  very  skies,  and  I  followed  that  parade  right 
into  the  circus  lot." 

"Did  you  seed  inside  de  tent?"  Willie  asked, 
eagerly. 

"I  didn't  hare  enough  money  for  that,"  Doug- 
las answered,  frankly.  He  turned  to  the  small 
boy  and  pinched  his  ear.  There  was  sad  dis- 
appointment in  the  youngster's  face,  but  he 
brightened  again,  when  the  parson  confessed  that 
he  "peeped.** 

"A  parson  peeping !"  cried  the  thin-lipped  Miss 
Perkins. 


30  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"I  was  not  a  parson  then,"  corrected  Douglas, 
good-naturedly. 

"You  were  going  to  be,"  persisted  the  spinster. 

"I  had  to  be  a  boy  first,  in  spite  of  that  fact." 

The  sudden  appearance  of  Hasty  proved  a  di- 
version. He  was  looking  very  sheepish. 

"Hyar  he  is,  Mars  John;  look  at  him!"  said 
Mandy. 

"Hasty,  where  have  you  been  all  day?"  de- 
manded Douglas,  severely. 

Hasty  fumbled  with  his  hat  and  sparred  for 
time.  "Did  yo'  say  whar's  I  been,  sah?" 

"Dat's  what  he  done  ast  yo',*'  Mandy 
prompted,  threateningly. 

"I  bin  'ceived,  Mars  John,"  declared  Hasty, 
solemnly.  Mandy  snorted  incredulously.  Douglas 
waited. 

"A  gemmen  in  de  circus  done  tole  me  dis 
mawnin'  dat  ef  I  carry  water  fo'  de  el'phants, 
he'll  let  me  in  de  circus  fo'  nuffin',  an'  I  make  a 
'greement  wid  him.  Mars  John,  did  yo'  ebber 
seed  an'  el'phant  drink?"  he  asked,  rolling  his 
eyes.  John  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  sah,  he  jes'  put  dat  trunk  a'  his'n  into  de 
pail,  jes'  once  an — swish — water  gone." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  31 

Douglas  laughed ;  and  Mandy  muttered,  sullenly. 

"Well,  sah,"  continued  Hasty,  "I  tote  water 
fo'  dem  el'phants  all  day  long,  an'  when  I  cum 
roun'  to  see  de  circus,  de  gemmen  won't  let  me 
in.  An'  when  I  try  to  crawl  under  de  tent,  dey 
pulls  me  out  by  de  laigs  an'  beats  me."  He 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  expecting  sym- 
pathy. 

"Sarves  you  right,"  was  Mandy's  unfeeling  re- 
ply. "If  yo's  so  anxious  to  be  a-totin'  water, 
jes'  yo'  come  along  outside  and  tote  some  fo' 
Mandy." 

"I  can't  do  no  mo'  carryin',  Mandy,"  pro- 
tested Hasty.  "I'se  hurted  in  mah  arm." 

"What  hurt  yo'?" 

"Tiger." 

"A  tiger?"  exclaimed  the  women  in  unison. 

"Done  chawed  it  mos'  off,"  he  declared,  sol- 
emnly. "Deacon  Elverson,  he  seed  it,  an'  he  says 
I's  hurt  bad." 

"Deacon  Elverson?"  cried  the  spinster.  "Was 
Deacon  Elverson  at  the  circus?" 

"He  was  in  de  lot,  a-tryin'  to  look  in,  same  as 
me,"  Hasty  answered,  innocently. 

"You'd  better  take  Hasty   into  the  kitchen," 


32  Polly  of  the  Circus 

said  Douglas  to  Mandy,  with  a  dry  smile ;  "he's 
talking  too  much  for  a  wounded  man." 

Mandy  disappeared  with  the  disgraced  Hasty, 
advising  him  with  fine  scorn  "to  get  de  tiger  to 
chaw  off  his  laigs,  so's  he  wouldn't  have  to  walk 
no  mo'." 

The  women  gazed  at  each  other  with  lips  closed 
tightly.  Elverson's  behaviour  was  beyond  their 
power  of  expression.  Miss  Perkins  turned  to  the 
pastor,  as  though  he  were  somehow  to  blame  for 
the  deacon's  backsliding,  but  before  she  could 
find  words  to  argue  the  point,  the  timid  little 
deacon  appeared  in  the  doorway,  utterly  uncon- 
scious of  the  hostile  reception  that  Hasty  had 
prepared  for  him.  He  glanced  nervously  from 
one  set  face  to  the  other,  then  coughed  behind 
his  hat. 

"We're  all  very  much  interested  in  the  circus," 
said  Douglas.  "Can't  you  tell  us  about  it?" 

"I  just  went  into  the  lot  to  look  for  my  son," 
stammered  the  deacon.  "I  feared  Peter  had 
strayed." 

"Why,  deacon,"  said  Mrs.  Willoughby.  "I 
just  stopped  by  your  house  and  saw  Mrs.  Elver- 
son  putting  Peter  to  bed." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  33 

The  deacon  was  saved  from  further  embar- 
rassment by  an  exclamation  from  Julia,  who 
had  stayed  at  the  window.  "Oh,  look ;  something 
lias  happened!"  she  cried.  "There's  a  crowd. 
They  are  coming  this  way." 

Douglas  crossed  quickly  to  Julia's  side,  and 
saw  an  excited  mob  collecting  before  the  en- 
trance to  the  main  tent.  He  had  time  to  dis- 
cover no  more  before  Mandy  burst  in  at  the 
door,  panting  with  excitement  and  rolling  her 
large,  white-rimmed  eyeballs. 

"Mars  John,  a  little  circus  girl  done  fall  off 
her  hoss !"  she  cried.  "Dr.  Hartley  say  can 
dey  bring  her  in  heah?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Douglas,  hurrying  outside. 

There  were  horrified  exclamations  from  the 
women,  who  were  aghast  at  the  idea  of  a  circus 
rider  in  the  parsonage.  In  their  helpless  in- 
dignation, they  turned  upon  the  little  deacon, 
feeling  intuitively  that  he  was  enjoying  the 
drama.  Elrerson  was  retreating  toward  the 
door  when  he  was  suddenly  thrust  aside  bj 
Douglas. 

In  the  young  pastor's  arms  was  a  white,  spai?- 
gled  burden  of  humanity,  her  slender  arm  hung 


34  Polly  of  the  Circus 

lifeless  over  his  shoulder.  The  silk  stocking 
was  torn  from  one  bruised  ankle;  her  hair 
fell  across  her  face,  veiling  it  from  the  un- 
friendly glances  of  the  women.  Douglas 
passed  out  of  sight  up  the  stairway  without 
looking  to  the  right  or  left,  followed  by  the 
doctor. 

Mandy  reached  the  front  door  in  time  to  push 
back  a  crowd  of  intruders.  She  had  barely 
closed  the  door  when  it  was  thrust  open  by  Jim. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  demanded. 

"Go  'way  f 'um  here !"  cried  Mandy,  as  her 
eyes  unconsciously  sought  the  stairs. 

Jim  followed  the  direction  of  her  glance,  and 
cleared  the  steps  at  a  bound.  Mandy  pursued 
him,  muttering  angrily.  Deacon  Elverson,  too, 
was  about  to  follow,  when  a  grim  reminder  from 
Miss  Perkins  brought  him  around  and  he  made 
for  the  door  instead.  He  started  back  on  open- 
ing ib,  for  standing  on  the  threshold  was  a 
clown  in  his  grotesque  "make-up" ;  his  white 
clothes  were  partially  concealed  b}r  a  large, 
travelling  ulster,  held  together  by  one  button. 
In  one  hand  he  carried  a  small  leather  satchel; 
in  the  other  a  girl's  sailor  hat ;  a  little  tan  coat 


Polly  of  the  Circus  35 

was  thrown  across  his  arm.  The  giggles  of  the 
boy  hiding  behind  his  mother's  skirt  were  the 
only  greetings  received  by  the  trembling  old  man 
in  the  doorway. 

He  glanced  uncertainly  from  one  unfriendly 
face  to  the  other,  waiting  for  a  word  of  invita- 
tion to  enter ;  but  none  came. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said;  "I  just  brought  some 
of  her  little  things.  She'd  better  put  on  her 
coat  when  she  goes  out.  It's  gettin'  kinder 
chilly." 

He  looked  again  into  the  blank  faces ;  still  no 
one  spoke.  He  stepped  forward,  trembling  with 
anxiety.  A  sudden  fear  clutched  at  his  heart, 
the  muscles  of  his  face  worked  pitifully,  the  red 
painted  lips  began  to  quiver. 

"It  ain't—  It  ain't  that,  is  it?"  he  faltered, 
unable  to  utter  the  word  that  filled  him  with 
horror. 

Even  Miss  Perkins  was  momentarily  touched 
by  the  anguish  in  the  old  man's  voice.  "I  guess 
you  will  find  the  person  you  are  looking  for  up- 
stairs," she  answered  tartly ;  and  flounced  out 
of  the  house,  calling  to  Julia  and  the  others  to 
follow  her,  and  declaring  that  she  would  soon 


36  Polly  of  the  Circus 

let  folks  know  how  the  parson  had  brought  a 
"circus  ridin'  girl"  into  the  parsonage. 

The  painted  clown  stood  alone,  looking  from 
one  wall  to  the  other,  then  he  crossed  the  room 
and  placed  the  alligator  satchel  and  the  little 
coat  and  hat  on  the  study  table.  He  was  care- 
ful not  to  wrinkle  the  coat,  for  this  was  Polly's 
birthday  gift.  Jim  and  he  had  planned  to  have 
sandwiches  and  soda  pop  on  the  top  of  the  big 
wagon  when  they  offered  their  treasures  to- 
night ;  but  now  the  wagons  would  soon  be  leav- 
ing— and  where  was  Polly?  He  turned  to  ask 
this  question  as  Mandy  came  down  the  stairs. 

"Well,  if  dar  ain't  anudder  one,"  she  cried. 

"Never  mind,  Mandy,"  said  Douglas,  who  was 
just  behind  her,  carrying  a  small  water  pitcher, 
and  searching  for  a  bottle  of  brandy  which  had 
been  placed  in  the  medicine  chest  for  emergen- 
cies. 

"You  can  take  these  upstairs,"  he  told  her, 
when  he  had  filled  the  pitcher  with  water  and 
found  the  liquor.  Mandy  looked  threateningly 
at  Toby,  then  reluctantly  went  on  her  way. 

Douglas  turned  to  the  old  man  pleasantly. 
His  was  the  first  greeting  that  Toby  had  re- 


Polly  of  the  Circus  3f 

ceived,  and  he  at  last  found  voice  to  ask  whether 
Polty  was  badly  hurt. 

"The  doctor  hasn't  told  us  yet,"  said  Douglas, 
kindly. 

"I'm  her  Uncle  Toby — not  her  real  uncle,"  the 
old  man  explained,  "but  that's  what  she  calls 
me.  I  couldn't  come  out  right  away,  because 
I'm  on  in  the  concert.  Could  I  see  her  now, 
please  ?" 

"Here's  the  doctor,"  said  Douglas,  as  Hartley 
came  down  the  stairs,  followed  by  Jim.  "Well, 
doctor,  not  bad,  I  hope?" 

"Yes,  rather  bad,"  said  the  doctor,  adding 
quickly,  as  he  saw  the  suffering  in  Toby's  face, 
"but  don't  be  alarmed.  She's  going  to  get 
well." 

"How  long  will  it  be  before  we  can  have  her 
back — before  she  can  ride  again?"  asked  Jim 
gruffly,  as  he  stood  apart,  twisting  his  brown, 
worn  hat  in  his  hands. 

"Probably  sereral  months,"  said  the  doctor. 
"No  bones  are  broken,  but  the  ligaments  of  one 
ankle  are  torn,  and  she  received  a  bad  blow  on 
the  head.  It  will  be  some  time  before  she  re- 
covers consciousness." 


38  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"What  are  we  goin'  to  do,  Jim?"  asked  Toby, 
helplessly. 

"You  needn't  worry,  we'll  take  good  care  of 
her  here,"  said  Douglas,  seeing  desperation  writ- 
ten on  their  faces. 

"Here?"  They  looked  at  him  incredulously. — 
And  this  was  a  parson! 

"Where  are  her  parents?"  the  doctor  asked, 
looking  at  Jim  and  Toby. 

"She  ain't  got  no  parents  'cept  Toby  an'  me," 
replied  Jim.  "We've  took  care  of  her  ever  since 
she  was  a  baby." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  the  doctor.  "Well,  one  of 
you'd  better  stay  here  until  she  can  be  moved." 

"That's  the  trouble;  we  can't,"  said  Toby, 
hanging  his  head.  "You  see,  sir,  circus  folks  is 
like  soldiers.  No  matter  what  happens,  the  show 
has  to  go  on,  and  we  got  to  be  in  our  places." 

"Well,  well,  she'll  be  safe  enough,  here,"  said 
the  doctor.  "It  is  a  fortunate  thing  that  Mr. 
Douglas  can  manage  this.  Our  town  hospital 
burned  down  a  few  months  ago,  and  we've  been 
rather  puzzled  as  to  what  to  do  with  such  cases." 
He  took  his  leave  with  a  cheery  "Good  night," 
and  a  promise  to  look  in  upon  the  little  patient 


Polly  of  the  Circus  39 

later.  Jim  shuffled  awkwardly  toward  the  pas- 
tor. 

"It's  mighty  good  of  you  to  do  this,"  he  mum- 
bled, "but  she  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  charity 
patient.  Me  and  Toby  is  goin'  to  look  after  her 
keep." 

"Her  wants  will  be  very  few,"  Douglas  an- 
swered, kindly.  "You  needn't  trouble  much 
about  that." 

"I  mean  it,"  said  Jim,  savagely.  He  met  Doug- 
las's glance  of  surprise  with  a  determined  look, 
for  he  feared  that  his  chance  of  being  useful  to 
Polly  might  be  slipping  out  of  his  life. 

"You  mustn't  mind  Jim,"  the  clown  pleaded 
at  the  pastor's  elbow.  "You  see  pain  gets  some 
folks  different  from  others  ;  and  it  always  kinder 
makes  him  savage." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Douglas  answered, 
quickly.  His  own  life  had  been  so  lonely,  that 
he  could  understand  the  selfish  yearning  in  the 
big  man's  heart.  "You  must  do  what  you  think 
best  about  these  things ;  Mandy  and  I  will  look 
after  the  rest." 

Jim  hung  his  head,  feeling  somehow  that  the 
pastor  had  seen  straight  into  his  heart  and  dis- 


40  Polly  of  the  Circus 

covered  his  petty  weakness.  He  was  about  to 
turn  toward  the  door  when  it  was  thrown  open 
by  Barker. 

"Where  is  she?"  shouted  the  manager,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"She  can't  come,"  said  Jim  in  a  low,  steady 
voice,  for  he  knew  the  storm  of  opposition  with 
which  Barker  would  meet  the  announcement. 

"Can't  come?"  shrieked  Barker.  "Of  course 
she'll  come.  I  can't  get  along  without  her.  She's 
got  to  come."  He  looked  at  Jim,  who  remained 
silent  and  firm.  "Why  ain't  she  comin'?"  he 
asked,  feeling  himself  already  defeated. 

"She's  hurt  bad,"  was  Jim's  laconic  reply. 

"The  devil  she  is !"  said  Barker,  looking  at 
Douglas  for  confirmation.  "Is  that  right?" 

"She  won't  be  able  to  travel  for  some  time," 
said  Douglas. 

"Mr.  Barker  is  our  manager,"  Toby  explained, 
as  he  edged  his  way  to  the  pastor's  side. 

"Some  time !"  Barker  looked  at  Douglas  as 
though  he  were  to  blame  for  their  misfortune. 
"Well,  you  just  bet  she  will,"  he  declared  men- 
acingly. 

"See  here,  Barker,  don't  you  talk  to  him  like 


Polly  of  the  Circus  41 

that,"  said  Jim,  facing  the  manager.  "He's 
darned  square  even  if  he  is  a  parson."  Barker 
turned  away.  He  was  not  a  bad-hearted  man, 
but  he  was  irritated  and  upset  at  losing  the  star 
feature  of  his  bill. 

"Ain't  this  my  dod-gasted  luck?"  he  muttered 
to  himself,  as  his  eye  again  travelled  to  the  boss 
canvas-man.  "You  get  out  a'  here,  Jim,"  he 
shouted,  "an'  start  them  wagons.  The  show's 
got  to  go  on,  Poll  or  no  Poll." 

He  turned  with  his  hand  on  the  door-knob  and 
jerked  out  a  grudging  thanks  to  the  pastor. 
"It's  all  fired  good  of  you  to  take  her  in,"  he 
said,  "but  it's  tough  to  lose  her.  Good  night !" 
He  banged  the  door  and  clattered  down  the 
steps. 

Jim  waited.  He  was  trying  to  find  words  in 
which  to  tell  his  gratitude.  None  came ;  and  he 
turned  to  go  with  a  short  "good-bye!" 

"Good  night,  Jim,"  said  the  pastor.  He 
crossed  the  room  and  took  the  big  fellow's 
hand. 

"Much  obliged,"  Jim  answered  gruffly.  It  was 
his  only  polite  phrase,  and  he  had  taught  Polly 
to  say  it.  Douglas  waited  until  Jim  had  passed 


42  Polly  of  the  Circus 

down  the  steps,  then  turned  to  Toby,  who  still 
lingered  near  the  table. 

"You'll  tell  her  how  it  was  me  and  Jim  had  to 
leave  her  without  sayin'  'good-bye,'  won't  you, 
sir?"  Toby  pleaded. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Douglas  promised. 

"I'll  jes'  put  this  little  bit  o'  money  into  her 
satchel."  He  picked  up  the  little  brown 
bag  that  was  to  have  been  Polly's  birthday 
gift.  "Me  an'  Jim  will  be  sendin'  her  more 
soon." 

"You're  going  to  miss  her,  I'm  afraid,"  Doug- 
las said,  feeling  an  irresistible  desire  to  gain  the 
old  man's  confidence. 

"Lord  bless  you,  yes,  sir,"  Toby  answered, 
turning  upon  him  eagerly.  "Me  an'  Jim  has 
been  father  an'  mother  and  Jos'  about  everythin' 
to  that  little  one.  She  wan't  much  bigger'n  a 
handful  of  peanuts  when  we  begun  a-worryin' 
about  her." 

"Well,  Mandy  will  do  the  worrying  now," 
Douglas  laughed.  "She's  been  d}dng  for  a 
chance  to  mother  somebody  all  along.  Why,  she 
even  tried  it  on  me." 

"I  noticed  as  how  some  of  those  church  people 


Polly  of  the  Circus  43 

seemed  to  look  kinder  queer  at  me,"  said  Toby, 
"and  I  been  a-wonderin'  if  mebbe  they  might  feel 
the  same  about  her." 

"Oh,  they're  all  right,"  Douglas  assured  him ; 
"they'll  be  her  friends  in  no  time." 

"She's  fit  for  'em,  sir,"  Toby  pleaded.  "She's 
good,  clean  into  the  middle  of  her  heart." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  Douglas  answered. 

"I've  heard  how  some  church  folks  feels  to- 
wards us  circus  people,  sir,  and  I  jes'  wanted 
ye  to  know  that  there  ain't  finer  families,  or  bet- 
ter mothers  or  fathers  or  grandfathers  or  grand- 
mothers anywhere  than  we  got  among  us.  Why, 
that  girl's  mother  rode  the  horses  afore  her,  and 
her  mother  afore  that,  and  her  grandmother  and 
grandfather  afore  that,  an'  there  ain't  nobody 
what's  cared  more  for  their  good  name  and  their 
children's  good  name  an'  her  people  has.  You 
see,  sir,  circus  folks  is  all  like  that;  they's  jes' 
like  one  big  family ;  they  tends  to  their  business 
and  takes  good  care  o'  theirselves — they  has  to 
— or  they  couldn't  do  their  work.  It's  'cause 
I'm  leavin'  her  with  you  that  I'm  sayin'  all  this," 
the  old  man  apologised. 

"I'm  glad  you  told  me,  Toby,"  Douglas  an- 


44  Polly  of  the  Circus 

swered,  kindly.     "I've  never  known  much  about 
circus  folks." 

"I  guess  I'd  better  be  goin',"  Toby  faltered,  as 
his  eyes  roved  hungrily  toward  the  stairway. 

"I'll  send  you  our  route,  and  mebbe  you'll  be 
lettin'  us  know  how  she  is." 

"Indeed  I  will,"  Douglas  assured  him,  heartily. 

"You  might  tell  her  we'll  write  ever'  day  or  so," 
he  added. 

"I'll  tell  her,"  Douglas  promised  earnestly. 

"Good  night !"  The  old  man  hesitated,  unwill- 
ing to  go,  but  unable  to  find  further  pretext  for 
staying. 

"Good  night,  Toby."  Douglas  extended  his 
hand  toward  the  bent  figure  that  was  about  to 
shuffle  past  him.  The  withered  hand  of  the 
white-faced  clown  rested  in  the  strong  grasp  of 
the  pastor,  and  his  pale,  little  eyes  sought  the 
face  of  the  stalwart  man  before  him;  a  numb 
desolation  was  growing  in  his  heart;  the  object 
for  which  he  had  gone  on  day  by  day  was  being 
left  behind  and  he  must  stumble  forth  into  the 
night  alone. 

"It's  hard  to  leave  her,"  he  mumbled;  "but 
the  show  has  got  to  go  on." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  45 

The  door  shut  out  the  bent,  old  figure.  Douglas 
stood  for  some  time  where  Toby  had  left  him, 
still  thinking  of  his  prophetic  words.  His  rev- 
;  ery  was  broken  by  the  sounds  of  the  departing 
wagons,  the  low  muttered  curses  of  the  drivers, 
the  shrieking  and  roaring  of  the  animals,  as  the 
circus  train  moved  up  the  distant  hill.  "The 
show  has  got  to  go  on,"  he  repeated  as  he  crossed 
to  his  studj  table  and  seated  himself  for  work  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  old-fashioned  lamp.  He  put 
out  one  hand  to  draw  the  sheets  of  his  interrupted 
sermon  toward  him,  but  instead  it  fell  upon  a 
small  sailor  hat.  He  twisted  the  hat  absently 
in  his  fingers,  not  yet  realising  the  new  order 
of  things  that  was  coming  into  his  life.  Mandy 
tiptoed  softly  down  the  stairs.  She  placed  one 
pudgy  forefinger  on  her  lips,  and  rolled  her 
large  eyes  skyward.  "Dat  sure  am  an  angel 
chile  straight  from  Hebben,"  she  whispered. 
"She  done  got  a  face  jes'  like  a  little  flower." 

"Straight  from  heaven,"  Douglas  repeated,  as 
she  crossed  softly  to  the  table  and  picked  up  the 
satchel  and  coat. 

"You  can  leave  the  lamp,  Mandy — I  must  finish 
to-morrow's  sermon." 


46  Polly  of  the  Circus 

She  turned  at  the  threshold  and  shook  her  head 
rather  sadly  as  she  saw  the  imprint  of  the  day's 
cares  on  the  young  pastor's  face. 

"Yo'  mus'  be  pow'ful  tired,"  she  said. 

"No,  no ;  not  at  all.     Good  night,  Mandy !" 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  Douglas 
was  alone.  He  gazed  absently  at  the  pages  of 
his  unfinished  sermon  as  he  tapped  his  idle  pen 
on  the  desk.  "The  show  has  got  to  go  on,"  he 
repeated,  and  far  up  the  hillside  with  the  slow- 
moving  wagons,  Jim  and  Toby  looked  with  un- 
seeing eyes  into  the  dim,  star-lit  distance,  and 
echoed  the  thought:  "The  show  has  got  to  go 


Chapter  V 


I  THE  church  bells  were  ringing  their  first  warn- 
ing for  the  morning  service  when  Mandy  peeped 
into  the  spare  bedroom  for  the  second  time,  and 
glanced  cautiously  at  the  wisp  of  hair  that  be- 
spoke a  feminine  head  somewhere  between  the 
covers  and  the  little  white  pillow  on  the  four- 
poster  bed.  There  was  no  sound  from  the 
sleeper,  so  Mandy  ventured  across  the  room  on 
tiptoe  and  raised  the  shades.  The  drooping 
boughs  of  Autumn  foliage  lay  shimmering 
against  the  window  panes,  and  through  them 
might  be  seen  the  grey  outline  of  the  church. 
Mandy  glanced  again  toward  the  bed  to  make 
sure  that  the  burst  of  sunlight  had  not  wakened 
the  invalid,  then  crossed  to  a  small,  rickety  chair, 
laden  with  the  discarded  finery  of  the  little  cir- 
cus rider. 

"Lawdy  sakes !"  she  cried,  holding  up  a  span- 
gled dress,  admiringly.  "Ain't  dat  beautiful!" 
She  drew  near  the  mirror,  attempting  to  see  the 
reflection  of  the  tinsel  and  chiffon  against  her 


48  Polly  of  the  Circus 

very  ample  background  of  gingham  and  avoir- 
dupois. "You'd  sure  be  a  swell  nigger  wid  dat 
on,  Honey,"  she  chuckled  to  herself.  "Wouldn't 
dem  deacons  holler  if  dey  done  see  dat?" 

The  picture  of  the  deacons'  astonishment  at 
such  a  spectacle  so  grew  upon  Mandy,  that  she 
was  obliged  to  cover  her  generous  mouth  to  shut 
in  her  convulsive  laughter,  lest  it  awaken  the  lit- 
tle girl  in  the  bed.  She  crossed  to  the  old-fash- 
ioned bureau  which  for  many  months  had  stood 
unused  against  the  wall.  The  drawer  creaked 
as  she  opened  it  to  lay  away  the  gay,  spangled 
gown. 

"It'll  be  a  mighty  long  time  afore  she  puts  on 
dem  tings  agin,"  she  said,  with  a  doubtful  shake 
of  her  large,  round  head. 

Then  she  went  back  to  the  chair  and  picked  up 
Polly's  sandals,  and  examined  the  bead-work 
with  a  great  deal  of  interest.  "Lawdy,  lawdy !" 
she  cried,  as  she  compared  the  size  of  the  san- 
dals to  that  of  her  own  rough,  worn  shoes.  She 
was  again  upon  the  point  of  exploding  with 
laughter,  as  the  church  bell  added  a  few,  final 
and  more  emphatic  clangs  to  its  warning. 

She  turned  with  a  start,  motioning  a  vain  warn- 


Polly  of  the  Circus  49 

ing  out  of  the  window  for  the  bell  to  be  silent, 
but  the  little  sleeper   was  already  stirring  un- 
easily on  her  pillow.     One  soft  arm  was  thrown 
languidly  over  her  head.     The  large,  blue  eyes 
opened  and  closed  dreamily  as  she  murmured  the 
words  of  the  clown  song  that  Jim  and  Toby  had 
taught  her  years  ago: 
"Ting  ling, 
That's  what  the  bells  sing " 

Handy  readied  the  side  of  the  bed  as  the  girl's 
eyes  opened  a  second  time  and  met  hers  with  a 
blank  stare  of  astonishment.  A  tiny  frown  came 
into  the  small,  white  forehead. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked  faintly,  try- 
ing to  find  something  familiar  in  the  black  face 
before  her. 

"Hush,  child,  hush,"  Mandy  whispered;  "jes' 
you  lie  puffickly  still.  Dat's  only  de  furs'  bell 
a-ringin'." 

"First  bell?"  the  girl  repeated,  as  her  eyes  trav- 
elled quickly  about  the  strange  walls  and  the 
unfamiliar  fittings  of  the  room.  "This  ain't  the 
show!"  she  cried,  suddenly. 

"Lor'  bless  you,  no ;  dis  ain't  no  show,"  Mandy 
answered ;  and  she  laughed  reassuringly. 


50  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Then  where  am  I?"  Polly  asked,  half  breath- 
less with  bewilderment. 

"Nebber  you  mind  'bout  dat,"  was  Mandy's 
unsatisfactory  reply. 

"But  I  do  mind,"  protested  Polly,  trying  to 
raise  herself  to  a  sitting  position.  "Where's  the 
bunch?" 

"De  wat?"  asked  Mandy  in  surprise. 

"The  bunch — Jim  and  Toby  and  the  rest  of 
the  push !" 

"Lor'  bless  you !"  Mandy  exclaimed. 
"Dey's  done  gone  'long  wid  de  circus,  hours 
ago." 

"Gone !  Show  gone !"  Polly  cried  in  amaze- 
ment. "Then  what  am  I  doing  here?" 

"Hole  on  dar,  honey!  hole  on!"  Mandy  cau- 
tioned. "Don't  you  'cite  yo'se'f ." 

"Let  me  alone!"  Polly  put  aside  the  arm  that 
was  trying  to  place  a  shawl  around  her.  "I  got 
to  get  out  a-here." 

"You'se  got  plenty  o'  time  for  dat,"  Mandy 
answered.  "Jes'  yo'  wait  awhile." 

"I  can't  wait,  and  I  won't !"  Polly  shrieked,  al- 
most beside  herself  with  anxiety.  "I  got  to  get 
to  the  next  burg — Wakefield,  ain't  it?  What 


Polly  of  the  Circus  51 

time  is  it  ?  Let  me  alone !  Let  me  go !"  she  cried, 
struggling  desperately. 

The  door  opened  softly  and  the  young  pastor 
stood  looking  down  at  the  picture  of  the  frail, 
white-faced  child,  and  her  black,  determined  cap- 
tor. 

"Here,  here!  What's  all  this  about?"  he 
asked,  in  a  firm  tone,  though  evidently  amused. 

"Who  are  you?"  returned  the  girl,  as  she 
shoved  herself  quickly  back  against  the  pillows 
and  drew  the  covers  close  under  her  chin,  look- 
ing at  him  oddly  over  their  top. 

"She  done  been  cuttin'  up  somefin'  awful," 
Mandy  explained,  as  she  tried  to  regain  enough 
breath  for  a  new  encounter. 

"Cutting  up?  You  surprise  me,  Miss  Polly," 
he  said,  with  mock  seriousness. 

"How  do  you  know  I'm  Polly?"  the  little  rebel 
asked,  her  eyes  gleaming  large  and  desperate 
above  the  friendly  covers. 

"If  you  will  be  very  good  and  keep  very  quiet, 
I  will  try  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  as  he  crossed  to 
the  bed. 

"I  won't  be  quiet,  not  for  nobody,"  Polly  ob- 
jected, with  a  bold  disregard  of  double  nega- 


52  Polly  of  the  Circus 

tives.  "I  got  to  get  a  move.  If  you  ain't  goin' 
to  help  me,  you  needn't  butt  in." 

"I  am  afraid  I  can't  help  you  to  go  just  yet," 
Douglas  replied.  He  was  beginning  to  perceive 
that  there  were  tasks  before  him  other  than  the 
shaping  of  Polly's  character. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do  to  me,  anyhow?" 
she  asked,  as  she  shot  a  glance  of  suspicion  from 
the  pastor  to  Mandy .  "What  am  I  up  against  ?" 

"Don't  yuh  be  scared,  honey,"  Mandy  reas- 
sured her.  "You's  jes'  as  safe  here  as  you  done 
been  in  de  circus." 

"Safer,  we  hope,"  Douglas  added,  with  a  smile. 

"Are  you  two  bug?"  Polly  questioned,  as  she 
turned  her  head  from  one  side  to  the  other  and 
studied  them  with  a  new  idea.  "Well,  you  can't 
get  none  the  best  of  me.  I  can  get  away  all 
right,  and  I  will,  too." 

She  made  a  desperate  effort  to  put  one  foot  to 
the  floor,  but  fell  back  with  a  cry  of  pain. 

"Dar,  dar,"  Mandy  murmured,  putting  the 
pillow  under  the  poor,  cramped  neck,  and 
smoothing  the  tangled  hair  from  Polly's  fore- 
head. "Yuh  done  hurt  yo'sef  for  suah  dis  time." 

The  pastor  had  taken  a  step  toward  the  bed. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  53 

His  look  of  amusement  had  changed  to  one  of 
pity. 

"You  see,  Miss  Polly,  you  have  had  a  very  bad 
fall,  and  you  can't  get  away  just  yet,  nor  see 
your  friends  until  you  are  better." 

"It's  only  a  scratch,"  Polly  whimpered.  "I  can 
do  my  work;  I  got  to."  One  more  feeble  effort 
and  she  succumbed,  with  a  faint  "Jimminy 
Crickets !" 

"Uncle  Toby  told  me  that  you  were  a  very 
good  little  girl,"  Douglas  said,  as  he  drew  up  a 
chair  and  sat  down  by  her  side,  confident  by  the 
expression  on  her  face  that  at  last  he  was  mas- 
ter of  the  situation.  "Do  you  think  he  would 
like  you  to  behave  like  this?" 

"I  sure  am  on  the  blink,"  she  sighed,  as  she  set- 
tled back  wearily  upon  the  pillow. 

"You'll  be  all  right  soon,"  Douglas  answered, 
cheerily.  "Mandy  and  I  will  help  the  time  to 
go." 

"I  recollect  now,"  Polly  faltered,  without  hear- 
ing him.  "It  was  the  last  hoop.  Jim  seemed  to 
have  a  hunch  I  was  goin'  to  be  in  for  trouble 
when  I  went  into  the  ring.  Bingo  must  a  felt 
it,  too.  He  kept  a-pullin'  and  a-jerkin'  from  the 


54  Polly  of  the  Circus 

start.  I  got  myself  together  to  make  the  last 
jump  an'- — I  can't  remember  no  more."  Her 
head  drooped  and  her  eyes  closed. 

"I  wouldn't  try  just  now  if  I  were  you,"  Doug- 
las answered  tenderly. 

"It's  my  wheel,  ain't  it?"  Polly  questioned, 
after  a  pause. 

"Yoah  what,  chile?"  Mandy  exclaimed,  as  she 
turned  from  the  table,  where  she  had  been  rolling 
up  the  unused  bandages  left  from  the  doctor's 
call  the  night  before. 

"I  say  it's  my  creeper,  my  paddle,"  Polly  ex- 
plained, trying  to  locate  a  few  of  her  many 
pains.  "Gee,  but  that  hurts!"  She  tried  to 
bend  her  ankle.  "Is  it  punctured?" 

"Only  sprained,"  Douglas  answered,  striving  to 
control  his  amusement  at  the  expression  on 
Mandy's  puzzled  face.  "Better  not  talk  any 
more  about  it." 

"Ain't  anything  the  matter  with  my  tongue,  is 
there?"  she  asked,  turning  her  head  to  one  side 
and  studying  him  quizzically. 

"I  don't  think  there  is,"  he  replied  good-na- 
turedly. 

"How  did  I  come  to  fall  in  here,  anyhow  ?"  she 


Polly  of  the  Circus  55 

asked,  as  she  studied  the  walls  of  the  unfamiliar 
room. 

"We  brought  you  here." 

"It's  a  swell  place,"  she  conceded  grudg- 
ingly. 

"We  are  comfortable,"  he  admitted,  as  a  tell- 
tale smile  again  hovered  about  his  lips.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  changes  that  he  must  presently 
make  in  Miss  Polly's  vocabulary. 

"Is  this  the  'big  top?'  she  asked. 

"The — what?"  he  stammered. 

"The  main  tent,"  she  explained. 

"Well,  no ;  not  exactly.  It's  going  to  be  your 
room  now,  Miss  Polly." 

"My  room !  Gee !  Think  a'  that !"  she  gasped, 
as  the  possibility  of  her  actually  having  a  room 
all  of  her  own  took  hold  of  her  mind.  "Much 
obliged,"  she  said  with  a  nod,  feeling  that  some- 
thing was  expected  of  her.  She  knew  no  other 
phrase  of  gratitude  than  the  one  "Muvver"  Jim 
and  Toby  had  taught  her  to  say  to  the  manager 
when  she  received  from  him  the  first  stick  of  red 
and  white  striped  candy. 

"You're  very  welcome,"  Douglas  answered  with 
a  ring  of  genuine  feeling  in  his  voice. 


56  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Awful  quiet,  ain't  it?"  she  ventured,  after  a 
pause.  "Guess  that's  what  woke  me  up." 

Douglas  laughed  good-naturedly  at  the 
thought  of  quiet  as  a  disturber,  and  added  that 
he  feared  it  might  at  first  be  rather  dull  for  her, 
but  that  Jim  and  Toby  would  send  her  news  of 
the  circus,  and  that  she  could  write  to  them  as 
soon  as  she  was  better. 

"I'll  have  to  be  a  heap  better  'an  I  ever  was 
'fore  I  can  write  much,"  Polly  drawled,  with  a 
whimsical  little  smile. 

"I  will  write  for  you,"  the  pastor  volunteered, 
understanding  her  plight. 

"You  will?"  For  the  first  time  he  saw  a  show 
of  real  pleasure  in  her  eyes. 

"Every  day,"  Douglas  promised  solemnly. 

"And  you  will  show  me  how?" 

"Indeed  I  will." 

"How  long  am  I  in  for?"  she  asked. 

"The  doctor  can  tell  better  about  that  when  he 
comes." 

"The  doctor!     So — it's  as  bad  as  that,  eh?" 

"Oh,  that  need  not  frighten  you,"  Douglas 
answered  consolingly. 

"I  ain't  frightened,"  she  bridled  quickly;  "I 


Polly  of  the  Circus  57 

ain't  never  scared  of  nothin.'  It's  only 
'cause  they  need  me  in  the  show  that  I'm 
a-kickinV 

"Oh,  they  will  get  along  all  right,"  he  said  re- 
assuringly. 

"Get  along?"  Polly  flashed  with  sudden  resent- 
ment. "Get  along  without  my  act!"  It  was  ap- 
parent from  her  look  of  astonishment  that 
Douglas  had  completely  lost  whatever  ground 
he  had  heretofore  gained  in  her  respect.  :'Say, 
have  you  seen  that  show?"  She  waited  for  his. 
answer  with  pity  and  contempt. 

"No,"  admitted  John,  weakly. 

"Well  I  should  say  you  ain't,  or  you  wouldn't 
make  no  crack  like  that.  I'm  the  whole  thing 
in  that  push,"  she  said  with  an  air  of  self-com- 
placency ;  "and  with  me  down  and  out,  that  show 
will  be  on  the  bum  for  fair." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  was  all  Douglas  could 
say,  confused  by  the  sudden  rolley  of  unfamiliar 
words. 

"You're  kiddin'  me,"  she  said,  turning  her  head 
to  one  side  as  was  her  wont  when  assailed  by  sus- 
picion ;  "you  must  a  seen  me  ride?" 

"No,  Miss  Pollj,  I  have  never  seen  a  circus," 


58  Polly  of  the  Circus 

Douglas  told  her  half-regretfully,  a  sense  of  his 
deep  privation  stealing  upon  him. 

"What!"  cried  Polly,  incredulously. 

"Lordy  no,  chile ;  he  ain't  nebber  seed  none  ob 
dem  tings,"  Mandy  interrupted,  as  she  tried  to 
arrange  a  few  short-stemmed  posies  in  a  varie- 
gated bouquet. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that!"  Polly 
gasped.  "You're  the  first  rube  I  ever  saw  that 
hadn't."  She  was  looking  at  him  as  though  he 
were  a  curiosity. 

"So  I'm  a  rube !"  Douglas  shook  his  head  with 
a  sad,  little  smile  and  good-naturedly  agreed 
that  he  had  sometimes  feared  as  much. 

"That's  what  we  always  calls  a  guy  like  you," 
she  explained  ingenuously,  and  added  hopefully : 
"Well,  you  must  a'  seen  our  parade — all  the 
pikers  see  that — it  don't  cost  nothinV 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  also  plead  guilty  to  the 
charge  of  being  a  piker,"  Douglas  admitted 
half-sheepishly,  "for  I  did  see  the  parade." 

"Well,  I  was  the  one  on  the  white  horse  right 
behind  the  lion  cage,"  she  began  excitedly.  "You 
remember?" 

"It's  a  little  confused  in  my  mind — "  he  caught 


Polly  of  the  Circus  59 

her  look  of  amazement,  "just  at  present,"  he 
stammered,  feeling  her  wrath  again  about  to 
descend  upon  him. 

"Well,  I'm  the  twenty-four  sheet  stand,"  she 
explained. 

"Sheet!"  Mandy  shrieked  from  her  corner. 

"Yes — the  billboards — the  pictures,"  Polly 
said,  growing  impatient  at  their  persistent  stu- 
pidity. 

"She  sure  am  a  funny  talkin'  thing !"  mumbled 
Mandy  to  herself,  as  she  clipped  the  withered 
leaves  from  a  plant  near  the  window. 

"You  are  dead  sure  they  know  I  ain't  comin' 
on?"  Polly  asked  with  a  lingering  suspicion  in 
her  voice. 

"Dead  sure"  ;  and  Douglas  smiled  to  himself  as 
he  lapsed  into  her  vernacular. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Polly  realised 
for  the  first  time  that  she  must  actually  read- 
just herself  to  a  new  order  of  things.  Her  eyes 
again  roved  about  the  room.  It  was  a  cheerful 
place  in  which  to  be  imprisoned — even  Polly 
could  not  deny  that.  The  broad  window  at  the 
back  with  its  white  and  pink  chintz  curtains  on 
the  inside,  and  its  frame  of  ivy  on  the  outside, 


60  Polly  of  the  Circus 

spoke  of  singing  birds  and  sunshine  all  day 
long.  Everything  from  the  white  ceiling  to 
the  sweet-smelling  matting  that  covered  the 
floor  was  spotlessly  clean;  the  cane-bottomed 
rocker  near  the  curved  window-seat  with  its 
pretty  pillows  told  of  days  when  a  convalescent 
might  look  in  comfort  at  the  garden  beneath; 
the  counterpane,  with  its  old-fashioned  rose 
pattern,  the  little  white  tidies  on  the  back  of 
each  chair,  and  Mandy  crooning  beside 
the  window,  all  helped  to  make  a  homelike 
picture. 

She  wondered  what  Jim  and  Toby  would 
say  if  they  could  see  her  now,  sitting  like  a 
queen  in  the  midst  of  her  soft  coverlets,  with 
no  need  to  raise  even  a  finger  to  wait  upon 
herself. 

"Ain't  it  the  limit?"  she  sighed,  and  with  that 
Jim  and  Toby  seemed  to  drift  farther  away. 
She  began  to  see  their  life  apart  from  hers.  She 
could  picture  Jim  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 
She  could  hear  his  sharp  orders  to  the  men.  He 
was  always  short  with  the  others  when  anything 
went  wrong  with  her. 

"I'll  bet   'Muvver  Jim's'   in  the  dumps,"   she 


Polly  of  the  Circus  61 

murmured,  as  a  cloud  stole  across  the  flower-like 
face ;  then  the  tired  muscles  relaxed,  and  she 
ceased  to  rebel. 

"Muvver  Jim"?  Douglas  repeated,  feeling  that 
he  must  recall  her  to  a  knowledge  of  his  pres- 
ence. 

"That's  what  I  calls  him,"  Polly  explained, 
"but  the  fellows  calls  him  'Big  Jim.'  You  might 
not  think  Jim  could  be  a  good  mother  just  to 
look  at  him,  but  he  is ;  only,  sometimes,  you  can't 
tell  him  things  you  could  a  real  mother,"  she 
added,  half  sadly. 

"And  your  real  mother  went  away  when  you 
were  very  young?" 

"No,  she  did  n't  go  away ; 

"No?"  There  was  a  puzzled  note  in  the  pas- 
tor's voice. 

"She  went  out,"  Polly  corrected. 

"Out !"  he  echoed  blankly. 

"Yes— finished—     Lights  out." 

"Oh,  an  accident."  Douglas  understood  at 
last. 

"I  don't  like  to  talk  about  it."  Polly  raised 
herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked  at  him  solemnly, 
as  though  about  to  impart  a  bit  of  forbidden 


62  Polly  of  the  Circus 

family  history.  It  was  this  look  in  the  round 
eyes  that  had  made  Jim  so  often  declare  that  the 
kid  knew  everything. 

"Why  mother'd  a  been  ashamed  if  she'd  a 
knowed  how  she  wound  up.  She  was  the  best 
rider  of  her  time,  everybody  says  so,  but  she 
cashed  in  by  fallin'  off  a  skate  what  didn't  have 
no  more  ginger  'an  a  kitten.  If  you  can  beat 
that?"  She  gazed  at  him  with  her  lips  pressed 
tightly  together,  evidently  expecting  some 
startling  expression  of  wonder. 

"And  your  father?"  Douglas  asked  rather 
lamely,  being  at  a  loss  for  any  ade- 
quate comment  upon  a  tragedy  which  the  child 
before  him  was  too  desolate  even  to  under- 
stand. 

"Oh,  dad's  finish  was  all  right.  He  got  his'n 
in  a  lion's  cage  where  he  worked.  There  was 
nothing  slow  about  his  end."  She  looked  up  for 
his  approval. 

"For  de  Lord's  sake!"  Mandy  groaned  as  the 
wonder  of  the  child's  conversation  grew  upon 
her. 

"And  now  I'm  down  and  out,"  Polly  concluded 
witfc1  a,  sigh. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  68 

"But  this  is  nothing  serious,"  said  the  yastor, 
trying  to  cheer  her. 

"It's  serious  enough,  with  a  whole  shuw  a-de- 
pendin'  on  you.  Maybe  you  don't  knry  how  it 
feels  to  have  to  knock  off  work." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  Douglas  answered  quickly. 
"I  was  ill  a  while  ago  myself.  I  had  to  be  in 
bed  day  after  day,  thinking  of  dozens  of  things 
that  I  ought  to  be  doing." 

"Was  you  ever  floored?"  Polly  aoked  with 
a  touch  of  unbelief  as  she  studied  the  fine, 
healthy  physique  at  the  side  of  her  b^d. 

"  'Deed  he  was,  chile,"  Mandy  cried,  feeling 
that  her  opportunity  had  now  arrived;  "an'  I 
had  the  wors'  time  a-keepin'  him  in  bed.  He  act 
jes'  like  you  did." 

"Did  he?"  Polly  was  delighted  to  !md  that  the 
pastor  had  "nothin'  on  her,"  as  she  would  have 
put  it. 

"You  ought  to  have  heard  him,*9  continued 
Mandy,  made  eloquent  by  Polly's  shew  of  inter- 
est. "  'What  will  dose  poor  folks  do?'  he  kept 
a-sayin'.  'Jes'  yo'  lie  where  yo'  is,'  I  tole  him. 
'Dem  poor  folks  will  be  better  off  dan  *ky  would 
be  a-comin'  to  yoah  funeral.' ' 


64  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Poor  folks  ?"  Polly  questioned.  "Do  you  give 
money  to  folks?"  We  are  always  itchin'  to  get 
it  away  from  'em." 

Before  Douglas  could  think  of  words  with 
which  to  defend  his  disapproved  methods,  Mandy 
had  continued  eagerly: 

"An'  den  on  Sunday,  when  he  can't  go  to 
church  and  preach —  She  got  no  further.  A 
sharp  exclamation  brought  both  Mandy  and 
Douglas  to  attention. 

"Preach !"  Folly  almost  shouted.  She  looked 
at  him  with  genuine  alarm  this  time". 

"That  will  do,  Mandy,"  Douglas  commanded, 
feeling  an  unwelcome  drama  gathering  about  his 
head. 

"Great  Barnum  and  Bailey !"  Polly  exclaimed, 
looking  at  him  as  though  he  were  the  very  last 
thing  in  the  world  she  had  ever  expected  to  see. 
"Are  you  a  skypilot  ?'* 

"That's  what  he  am,  chile."  Mandy  slipped 
the  words  in  slyly,  for  she  knew  that  they  were 
against  the  pastor's  wishes,  but  she  was  unable 
to  restrain  her  mischievous  impulse  to  sow  the 
seeds  of  curiosity  that  would  soon  bear  fruit  in 
the  inquisitive  mind  of  the  little  invalid. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  65 

"Will  you  get  onto  me  a-landin'  into  a  iuix-up 
like  this  ?"  She  continued  to  study  the  uncomfort- 
able man  at  her  side.  "I  never  thought  I'd  be 
a-talkin'  to  one  of  you  guys.  What's  your  name?" 

"Douglas."     He  spoke  shortly. 

"Ain't  you  got  no  handle  to  it?" 

"If  you  mean  my  Christian  name,  it's  John." 

"Well,  that  sounds  like  a  skypilot,  all  right. 
But  you  don't  look  like  I  s'pos«d  they  did." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  always  s'posed  skypilots  was  old  and 
grouchy-like.  You're  a'most  as  good  lookin'  as 
our  strong  man." 

"I  done  tole  him  he  was  too  good-lookin'  to  be 
an  unmarried  parson,"  Mandy  chuckled,  more 
and  more  amused  at  the  pastor's  discomfort. 

"Looks  don't  play  a  very  important  part  in 
my  work,"  Douglas  answered  curtly.  Mandy's 
confidential  snickers  made  him  doubly  anxious 
to  get  to  a  less  personal  topic. 

"Well,  they  count  for  a  whole  lot  with  us." 
She  nodded  her  head  decidedly.  "How  long  you 
been  showin'  in  this  town,  anyhow?" 

"About  a  year,"  Douglas  answered,  with  some- 
thing of  a  sigh* 


66  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"A  year!"  she  gasped.  "In  a  burg  like  this? 
You  must  have  an  awful  lot  of  laughs  in 
your  act  to  keep  'em  a-comin*  that  long." 
She  was  wise  in  the  ways  of  professional 
success. 

"Not  many,  I'm  afraid."  He  wondered,  for 
the  first  time,  if  this  might  be  the  reason  for  his 
rather  indifferent  success. 

"Do  you  give  them  the  same  stuff,  or  have  you 
got  a  rep?" 

"A  rep?"  he  repeated  in  surprise. 

"Sure,  repertory — different  acts — entries,  some 
calls  'em.  Uncle  Toby's  got  twenty-seven  en- 
tries. It  makes  a  heap  of  difference  in  the  big 
towns  where  you  have  a  run." 

"Oh,  I  understand,"  Douglas  answered  in  a 
tone  of  relief.  "Well,  I  try  to  say  something 
new  each  Sunday." 

"What  kind  of  spiels  do  you  give  'em?"  she 
inquired  with  growing  interest. 

"I  try  to  help  my  people  to  get  on  better  terms 
with  themselves  and  to  forget  their  week-day 
troubles."  He  had  never  had  occasion  to  define 
his  efforts  so  minutely. 

"Well,  that's  jes'  the  same  as  us,"  Polly  told 


Polly  of  the  Circus  67 

him  with  an  air  of  condescension ;  "only  circuses 
draws  more  people  'an  churches." 

"Yours  does  seem  to  be  a  more  popular  form  of 
entertainment,"  Douglas  answered  drily.  He 
was  beginning  to  feel  that  there  were  many  tricks 
in  the  entertainment  trade  which  he  had  not  mas- 
tered. And,  after  all,  what  was  his  preaching 
but  an  effort  at  entertainment?  If  he  failed  to 
hold  his  congregation  by  what  he  was  saying, 
his  listeners  grew  drowsy,  and  his  sermon  fell 
short  of  its  desired  effect.  It  was  true  that  his 
position  and  hers  had  points  of  similarity.  She 
was  apparently  successful;  as  for  himself,  he 
could  not  be  sure.  He  knew  he  tried  very  hard 
and  that  sometimes  a  tired  mother  or  a  sad- 
faced  child  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile  that 
made  the  service  seem  worth  while. 

Polly  mistook  the  pastor's  revery  for  envy,  and 
her  tender  heart  was  quick  to  find  consolation 
for  him. 

"You  ain't  got  all  the  worst  of  it,"  she  said. 
"If  we  tried  to  play  a  dump  like  this  for  six 
months,  we'd  starve  to  death.  You  certainly 
must  give  'em  a  great  show,"  she  added,  survey- 
ing him  with  growing  interest. 


68  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"It  doesn't  make  much  difference  about  the 
show — "  Douglas  began,  but  he  was  quickly 
interrupted. 

"That's  right,  it's  jes'  the  same  with  a  cir- 
cus. One  year  ye  give  'em  the  rottenest  kind 
of  a  thing,  and  they  eat  it  up ;  the  next  year  you 
hand  'em  a  knock-out,  and  it's  a  frost.  Is  that 
the  way  it  is  with  a  church  show?" 

"Much  the  same,"  Douglas  admitted  half- 
amusedly,  half -regretfully.  "Very  often  wlien 
I  work,  the  hardest,  I  seem  to  do  the  least 
good." 

"I  guess  our  troubles  is  pretty  much  alike.'- 
Polly  nodded  with  a  motherly  air  of  condescen- 
sion. "Only  there  ain't  so  much  danger  in  your 
act." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  he  laughed. 

"Well,  you  take  my  tip,"  she  leaned  forward 
as  though  about  to  impart  a  very  valuable  bit 
of  information.  "Don't  you  never  go  in  for 
ridin'.  There  ain't  no  act  on  earth  so  hard  as  a 
ridin'  act.  The  rest  of  the  bunch  has  got  it  easy 
alongside  of  us.  Take  the  fellows  on  the 
trapeze.  They  always  get  their  tackle  up  in  jes' 
the  same  place.  Take  the  balancin'  acts ;  there 


Polly  of  the  Circus  69 

ain't  no  difference  in  their  layouts.  Take  any 
of  'em  as  depends  on  regular  props ;  and  they 
ain't  got  much  chance  a-goin'  wrong.  But  say, 
when  yer  have  ter  do  a  ridin'  act,  there  ain't 
never  no  two  times  alike.  If  your  horse  is  feelin' 
good,  the  ground  is  stumbly ;  if  the  ground! 
ain't  on  the  blink  the  horse  is  wobbly.  Ther's 
always  somethin'  wrong  somewheres,  and  yer 
ain't  never  knowin'  how  it's  goin'  ter  end — espe- 
cially when  you  got  to  do  a  careful  act  like  mine. 
There's  a  girl,  Eloise,  in  our  bunch,  what  does 
a  showy  act  on  a  horse  what  Barker  calls  Bar- 
barian. She  goes  on  in  my  place  sometimes — 
and  say,  them  rubes  applauds  her  as  much  as 
me,  an'  her  stunts  is  baby  tricks  alongside  o' 
mine.  It's  enough  to  make  you  sick  o'  art." 
She  shook  her  head  dolefully,  then  sat  up  with 
renewed  interest. 

"You  see,  mine  is  careful  balancin'  an'  all  that, 
an'  you  got  ter  know  your  horse  an'  your  ground 
for  that.  Now  you  get  wise  ter  what  I'm  a-tellin' 
yer,  and  don't  you  never  go  into  anythin'  what 
depends  on  any  thin'  else." 

"Thank  you,  Polly,  I  won't."  Douglas  some- 
how felt  that  he  was  very  much  indebted  to  her. 


70  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"I  seen  a  church  show  once,"  Polly  said  sud- 
denly. 

"You  did?"  Douglas  asked,  with  new  interest. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  closing  her  lips  and  ven- 
turing no  further  comment. 

"Did  you  like  it?"  he  questioned,  after  a  pause. 

"Couldn't  make  nothin'  out  of  it — I  don't  care 
much  for  readin'." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  all  reading,"  he  corrected. 

"Well,  the  guy  I  saw  read  all  of  his'n.  He 
got  the  whole  thing  right  out  of  a  book." 

"Oh,  that  was  only  his  text,"  laughed  Douglas. 

"Text?" 

"Yes.  And  later  he  tried  to  interpret  to  his 
congrega " 

"Easy !  Easy !"  she  interrupted  ;  "come  again 
with  that,  will  you  ?" 

"He  told  them  the  meaning  of  what  he  read." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  he  told  'em,  but  it 
didn't  mean  anythin'  to  me.  But  maybe  your 
show  is  better'n  his  was,"  she  added,  trying  to 
pacify  him. 

Douglas  was  undecided  whether  to  feel  amused 
or  grateful  for  Polly's  ever-increasing  sym- 
pathy. Before  he  could  trust  his  twitching  lips 


Polly  of  the  Circus  71 

to  answer,  she  had  put  another  question  to 
him. 

"Are  you  goin'  to  do  a  stunt  while  I  am  here?" 

"I  preach  every  Sunday,  if  that's  what  you 
mean;  I  preach  this  morning." 

"Is  this  Sunday?"  she  asked,  sitting  up  with 
renewed  energy  and  looking  about  the  room  as 
though  everything  had  changed  colour. 

"Yes." 

"And  you  got  a  matinee?"  she  exclaimed,  in- 
credulously. 

"We  have  services,"  he  corrected,  gently. 

"We  rest  up  on  Sundays"  she  said  in  a  tone 
of  deep  commiseration. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  he  answered,  feeling  it  no  time 
to  enter  upon  another  discussion  as  to  the 
comparative  advantages  of  their  two  pro- 
fessions. 

"What  are  you  goin'  ter  spiel  about  to-day?" 

"About  Ruth  and  Naomi." 

"Ruth  and  who?" 

"Naomi,"  he  repeated. 

"Naomi,"  she  echoed,  tilting  her  head  from 
side  to  side,  as  she  listened  to  the  soft  cadences 
of  the  word.  "I  never  heard  that  name  afore. 


72  Polly  of  the  Circus 

It  'ud  look  awful  swell  on  a  billboard,  wouldn't 
it?" 

"It's  a  Bible  name,  honey,"  Mandy  said,  eager 
to  get  into  the  conversation.  "Dar's  a  buful 
picture  'bout  her.  I  seed  it." 

"I  like  to  look  at  pictures,"  Polly  answered 
tentatively.  Mandy  crossed  the  room  to  fetch 
the  large  Bible  with  its  steel  engravings. 

"We  got  a  girl  named  Ruth  in  our  'Leap  of 
Death'  stunt.  Some  of  the  folks  is  kinder  down 
on  'er,  but  I  ain't." 

She  might  have  told  Douglas  more  of  her  for- 
lorn, little  friend,  but  just  then  Mandy  came  to 
the  bed,  hugging  a  large,  old-fashioned  Bible, 
and  Douglas  helped  to  place  the  ponderous  book 
before  the  invalid. 

"See,  honey,  dar  dey  is,"  the  old  woman  said, 
pointing  to  the  picture  of  Ruth  and  Naomi. 

"Them's  cracker  jacks,  ain't  they?"  Polly 
gasped,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  wonder.  "Which 
one  »s  Ruth?" 

"Dis  one,"  said  Mandy,  pointing  with  her 
thumb. 

"Why,  they're  dressed  just  like  our  chariot 
drivers.  What  does  it  say  about  'em?" 


'Whither  thou  goest  I  will  go,  and  where 
thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge.' ' 


Polly  of  the  Circus  73 

"You  can  read  it  for  yourself,"  Douglas  an- 
swered gently.  There  was  something  pathetic 
in  the  eagerness  of  the  starved  little  mind. 

"Well,  I  ain't  much  on  readin' — out  loud"  she 
faltered,  growing  suddenly  conscious  of  her  de- 
ficiencies. "Read  it  for  me,  will  you?" 

"Certainly,"  and  he  drew  his  chair  nearer  to 
the  bed.  One  strong  hand  supported  the  other 
half  of  the  Bible,  and  his  head  was  very  near  to 
hers  as  his  deep,  full  voice  pronounced  the  sol- 
emn words  in  which  Ruth  pleaded  so  many  years 
before. 

"  'Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,'  "  he  read,  "  'or 
to  return  from  following  after  thee,  for  whither 
thou  goest  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  lodgest  I 
will  lodge.  Thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and 
thy  God  my  God.'  " 

He  stopped  to  ponder  over  the  poetry  of  the 
lines. 

"Kind  o'  pretty,  ain't  it?"  Polly  said  softly. 
She  felt  awkward  and  constrained  and  a  little 
overawed. 

"There  are  far  more  beautiful  things  than 
that,"  Douglas  assured  her  enthusiastically,  as 
the  echo  of  many  such  rang  in  his  ears. 


74  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"There  are?"  And  her  eyes  opened  wide  with 
wonder. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  he  replied,  pitying  more  and 
more  the  starvation  of  mind  and  longing  to 
bring  to  it  floods  of  light  and  enrichment. 

"I  guess  I'd  like  to  hear  you  spiel,"  and  she 
fell  to  studying  him  solemnly. 

"You  would?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Is  there  any  more  to  that  story?"  she  asked, 
ignoring  his  question. 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"Would  you  read  me  a  little  more?"  She  was 
very  humble  now. 

"Where  thou  diest  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I 
be  buried ;  the  Lord  do  so  to  me  and  more  also, 
if  ought  but  death  part  me  and  thee.' ' 

Their  eyes  met.  There  was  a  long  pause.  Sud- 
denly the  sharp,  sweet  notes  of  the  church  bell 
brought  John  Douglas  to  his  feet  with  a  start 
of  surprise. 

"Have  you  got  to  go?"  Polly  asked  regret- 
fully. 

"Yes,  I  must;  but  I'll  read  the  rest  from  the 
church.  Open  the  window,  Mandy!"  And  he 
passed  out  of  the  door  and  quickly  down  the 
stairs. 


Chapter  VI 

WHEN  John  Douglas's  uncle  offered  to  educate 
his  nephew  for  the  ministry,  the  boy  was  less  en- 
thusiastic than  his  mother.  He  did  not  remon- 
strate, however,  for  it  had  been  the  custom  of 
generations  for  at  least  one  son  of  each  Doug- 
las family  to  preach  the  gospel  of  Calvinism, 
and  his  father's  career  as  an  architect  and  land- 
scape gardener  had  not  left  him  much  capital. 

Douglas,  senior,  had  been  recognised  as  an 
artist  by  the  few  who  understood  his  talents,  but 
there  is  small  demand  for  the  builder  of  pic- 
turesque houses  in  the  little  business  towns  of 
the  Middle  West,  and  at  last  he  passed  away, 
leaving  his  son  only  the  burden  of  his  financial 
failure  and  an  ardent  desire  to  succeed  at  the 
profession  in  which  his  father  had  fared  so 
badly.  The  hopeless,  defeated  look  on  the  de- 
parted man's  face  had  always  haunted  the  boy, 
who  was  artist  enough  to  feel  his  father's  genius 
intuitively,  and  human  enough  to  resent  the  in- 
justice of  his  fate. 


76  Polly  of  the  Circus 

Douglas's  mother  had  suffered  so  much  because 
of  the  impractical  efforts  of  her  husband,  that 
she  discouraged  the  early  tendencies  of  the  son 
toward  drawing  and  mathematics  and  tried  to 
direct  his  thoughts  toward  creeds  and  Bible  his- 
tory. When  he  went  away  for  his  collegiate 
course,  she  was  less  in  touch  with  him ;  and  he 
was  able  to  steal  time  from  his  athletics  to  devote 
to  his  art.  He  spent  his  vacations  in  a  neigh- 
bouring city  before  a  drawing  board  in  the 
office  of  a  distinguished  architect,  his  father's 
friend. 

Douglas  was  not  a  brilliant  divinity  student, 
and  he  was  relieved  when  at  last  he  received  his 
degree  in  theology  and  found  himself  appointed 
to  a  small  church  in  the  Middle  West. 

His  step  was  very  bright  the  morning  he  first 
went  up  the  path  that  led  to  his  new  home.  His 
artistic  sense  was  charmed  by  the  picturesque 
approach  to  the  church  and  parsonage.  The 
view  toward  the  tree-encircled  spire  was  unob- 
structed, for  the  church  had  been  built  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  to  allow  for  a  growth  that 
had  not  materialised.  He  threw  up  his  head  and 
gazed  at  the  blue  hills,  with  their  background  of 


PoUy  of  the  Circus  77 

soft,  slow-moving  clouds.  The  smell  of  the  fresh 
earth,  the  bursting  of  the  buds,  the  forming  of 
new  life,  set  him  thrilling  with  a  joy  that  was 
very  near  to  pain. 

He  stopped  half  way  up  the  path  and  consid- 
ered the  advantages  of  a  new  front  to  the  nar- 
row-eaved  cottage,  and  when  his  foot  touched 
the  first  step  of  the  vine-covered  porch,  he  was 
far  more  concerned  about  a  new  portico  than 
with  any  thought  of  his  first  sermon. 

His  speculations  were  abruptly  cut  short  by 
Mandy,  who  bustled  out  of  the  door  with  a  wide 
smile  of  welcome  on  her  black  face,  and  an  un- 
mistakable ambition  to  take  him  immediately 
under  her  motherly  wing.  She  was  much  con- 
cerned because  the  church  people  had  not  met 
the  new  pastor  at  the  station  and  brought  him 
to  the  house.  Upon  learning  that  Douglas  had 
purposely  avoided  their  escort,  preferring  to 
come  to  his  new  home  the  first  time  alone,  she 
;  made  up  her  mind  that  she  was  going  to  like 
him. 

Mandy  had  long  been  a  fixture  in  the  parson- 
age. She  and  her  worse  half,  Hasty  Jones,  had 
come  to  know  and  discuss  the  weaknesses  of  the 


78  Polly  of  the  Circus 

many  clergymen  who  had  come  and  gone,  the  dea- 
cons, and  the  congregation,  both  individually 
and  collectively.  She  confided  to  Hasty,  that 
she  "didn't  blame  de  new  parson  fer  not  wantin' 
to  mix  up  wid  dat  ar  crowd." 

In  the  study  that  night,  when  she  and  Hastj 
helped  Douglas  to  unpack  his  many  boxes  of 
books,  they  were  as  eager  as  children  about  the 
drawings  and  pictures  which  he  showed  them. 
His  mind  had  gone  beyond  the  parsonage  front 
now,  and  he  described  to  them  the  advantage 
of  adding  an  extra  ten  feet  to  the  church 
spire. 

Mandj  felt  herself  almost  an  artist  when  she 
and  Hasty  bade  the  pastor  good  night,  for  she 
was  still  quivering  from  the  contagion  of  Doug- 
las's enthusiasm.  Here,  at  last,  was  a  master 
who  could  do  something  besides  find  fault  with 
her. 

"I  jest  wan'  to  be  on  de  groun'  de  firs'  time  dat 
Mars  Douglas  and  dat  ere  Deacon  Strong 
clinches,"  she  said  to  Hasty  as  they  locked  the 
doors  and  turned  out  the  hall  light.  "Did  yuh 
done  see  his  jaw?"  she  whispered.  "He  look 
laughin*  enough  now,  but  jes'  yuh  wait  till  he 


Polly  of  the  Circus  79 

done  set  dat  'ere  jaw  a  his'n  and  dar  ain't  nobody 
what's  goin'  ter  unsot  it." 

"Maybe  dar  ain't  goin'  ter  be  no  clinchin'," 
said  Hasty,  hoping  for  Mandy's  assurance  to 
the  contrary. 

"What?"  shrieked  Mandy.  "Wid  dat  'ere 
sneakin'  Widow  Willoughby  already  a-tellin'  de 
deacons  how  to  start  de  new  parson  a-goin' 
proper  ?" 

"Now,  why  you's  always  a-pickin'  onto  dat  'ere 
widow?"  asked  Hasty,  already  enjoying  the  ex- 
plosion which  he  knew  his  defence  of  the  widow 
was  sure  to  excite. 

"I  don'  like  no  woman  what's  allus  braggin' 
'bout  her  clean  floors,"  answered  Mandy,  shortly. 
She  turned  out  the  last  light,  and  tiptoed  up- 
stairs, trying  not  to  disturb  the  pastor. 

John  Douglas  was  busy  already  with  pencil  and 
paper,  making  notes  of  the  plans  for  the  church 
and  parsonage,  which  he  would  perfect  later  on. 
Alas,  for  Douglas's  day  dreams !  It  was  not 
many  weeks  before  he  understood  with  a  heavy 
heart  that  the  deacons  were  far  too  dull  and  un- 
inspired to  share  his  faith  in  beauty  as  an  aid 
to  man's  spiritual  uplift. 


80  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"We  think  we've  done  pretty  well  by  this 
church,"  said  Deacon  Strong,  who  was  the  busi- 
ness head,  the  political  boss,  and  the  moral  men- 
tor of  the  small  town's  affairs.  "Just  you  worry 
along  with  the  preachin',  young  man,  and  we'll 
attend  to  the  buyin'  and  buildin'  operations." 

Douglas's  mind  was  too  active  to  content  itself 
wholly  with  the  writing  of  sermons  and  the 
routine  of  formal,  pastoral  calls.  He  was  a  keen 
humanitarian,  so  little  by  little,  he  came  to  be 
interested  in  the  heart  stories  and  disappoint- 
ments of  many  of  the  village  unfortunates,  some 
of  whom  were  outside  his  congregation.  The 
mentally  sick,  the  despondent,  who  needed  words 
of  hope  and  courage  more  than  dry  talks  on  the- 
ology, found  in  him  an  ever  ready  friend  and 
adviser,  and  these  came  to  love  and  depend  on 
him.  But  he  was  never  popular  with  the  creed- 
bound  element  of  the  church. 

Mandy  had  her  wish  about  being  on  the  spot 
the  first  time  that  the  parson's  jaw  squared  itself 
at  Deacon  Strong.  The  deacon  had  called  at 
the  parsonage  to  demand  that  Douglas  put  a 
stop  to  the  boys  playing  baseball  in  the  adjoin- 
ing lot  on  Sunday.  Douglas  had  been  unable  to 


Polly  of  the  Circus  81 

see  the  deacon's  point  of  view.  He  declared  that 
baseball  was  a  healthy  and  harmless  form  of  ex- 
ercise, that  the  air  was  meant  to  be  breathed, 
and  that  the  boys  who  enj  oyed  the  game  on  Sun- 
day were  principally  those  who  were  kept  indoors 
by  work  on  other  days.  The  close  of  the  inter- 
view was  unsatisfactory  both  to  Douglas  and 
the  deacon. 

"Dey  kinder  made  me  cold  an'  prickly  all  up 
an'  down  de  back,"  Mandy  said  later,  when  she 
described  their  talk  to  Hasty.  "Dat  'ere  deacon 
don'  know  nuffin'  'bout  gittin'  'roun'  de  parson." 
She  tossed  her  head  with  a  feeling  of  superiority. 
She  knew  the  way.  Make  him  forget  himself 
with  a  laugh.  Excite  his  sympathy  with  some 
village  underdog. 


Chapter  VII 

MANDT  had  secretly  enjoyed  the  commotion 
caused  by  the  little  circus-rider  being  left  in  the 
parsonage,  at  first,  because  of  her  inborn  love  of 
mischief,  and  later,  because  Polly  had  become 
second  in  her  heart  only  to  the  pastor.  She  went 
about  her  work,  crooning  softly  during  the  days 
of  Polly's  convalescence.  The  deep,  steady  voice 
of  the  pastor  reading  aloud  in  the  pretty  win- 
dow overhead  was  company.  She  would  often 
climb  the  stairs  to  tell  them  some  bit  of  village 
gossip,  and  leave  them  laughing  at  a  quaint  com- 
ment about  some  inquisitive  sister  of  the  church, 
who  had  happened  to  incur  her  displeasure. 

As  spring  came  on,  Douglas  carried  Polly 
down  to  the  sun-lit  garden  beneath  the  window ; 
and  Mandy  fluttered  about  arranging  the  cush- 
ions with  motherly  solicitude. 

More  days  slipped  by,  and  Polly  began  to 
creep  through  the  little,  soft-leaved  trees  at  the 
back  of  the  church,  and  to  look  for  the  deep, 
blue,  sweet-scented  violets.  When  she  was  able, 


Pcliy  of  the  Circus  83 

Douglas  took  her  with  him  to  visit  some  of  the 
outlying  houses  of  the  poor.  Her  woman's  in- 
stinct was  quick  to  perceive  many  small  needs  in 
their  lives  that  he  had  overlooked,  and  to  sug- 
gest simple,  inexpensive  joys  that  made  them 
her  devoted  friends. 

Their  evenings  were  divided  between  making 
plans  for  these  unfortunates  and  reading  aloud 
from  the  Bible  or  other  books. 

When  Polly  gained  courage,  Douglas  some- 
times persuaded  her  to  read  to  him — and  the 
little  corrections  that  he  made  at  these  times 
soon  became  noticeable  in  her  manner  of  speech. 
She  was  so  eager,  so  starved  for  knowledge,  that 
she  drank  it  as  fast  as  he  could  give  it.  It  was 
during  their  talks  about  grammar  that  Mandy 
generally  fell  asleep  in  her  rocker,  her  unfinished 
sewing  still  in  her  lap. 

When  a  letter  came  from  Jim  and  Toby,  it  was 
always  shared  equally  by  Mandy  and  Hasty, 
Polly  and  the  pastor.  But  at  last  a  letter  came 
from  Jim  only,  and  Douglas,  who  was  asked  to 
read  it,  faltered  and  stopped  after  the  first  few 
words. 

"It's  no  use  my  tryin'  to  keep  it  from  you  any 


84  Polly  of  the  Circus 

longer,  Poll,"  the  letter  began,  "we  ain't  got 
Toby  with  us  no  more.  He  didn't  have  no  ac- 
cident, it  wasn't  that.  He  just  seemed  kinder 
sick  and  ailin'  like,  ever  since  the  night  we  had 
to  leave  you  behind.  I  used  to  get  him  warm 
drinks  and  things,  and  try  to  pull  'im  through, 
but  he  was  always  a-chillin'  and  a-achin'.  If 
it  wasn't  one  thing  the  matter,  it  was  another. 
I  done  all  I  knowed  you'd  a-wanted  me  to,  an' 
the  rest  of  the  folks  was  mighty  white  to  him, 
too.  I  guess  they  kinder  felt  how  lonesome  he 
was.  He  couldn't  get  no  more  laughs  in  the 
show,  so  Barker  had  to  put  on  another  man  with 
him.  That  kinder  hurt  him  too — I  s'pose — an* 
showed  him  the  way  that  things  was  a-goin'.  It 
was  just  after  that,  he  wrote  the  parson  a-tellin' 
him  to  never  let  you  come  back.  He  seemed  to 
a'  got  an  idee  in  his  head  that  you  was  happier 
where  you  was.  He  wouldn't  let  me  tell  ye  'bout 
his  feelin'  so  rocky,  'cause  he  thought  it  might 
mebbe  make  you  come  back.  'She's  diff'runt 
from  us,'  he  was  allus  a-sayin'.  'I  never  'spected 
to  keep  'er.' ' 

Douglas  stopped.     Polly  was  waiting,  her  face 
white  and  drawn.    He  had  not  told  her  of  Toby's 


Polly  of  the  Circus  85 

letter,  because  with  it  had  come  a  request  to  "say 
nothin'  to  the  kid." 

He  felt  that  Polly  was  controlling  herself  with 
an  effort  until  he  should  reach  the  end  of  Jim's 
letter,  so  he  hurried  on. 

"The  parson's  promise  didn't  get  to  him  none 
too  quick,"  he  read.  "That  seemed  to  be  what 
he  was  waitin'  for.  He  give  up  the  night  it 
come,  and  I  got  him  a  little  room  in  a  hotel  after 
the  show,  and  let  one  of  the  other  fellers  get  the 
stuff  out  o'  town,  so's  I  could  stay  with  him  up 
to  the  finish.  It  come  'round  mornin'.  There 
wasn't  much  to  it — he  just  seemed  tired  and 
peaceful  like.  'I'm  glad  he  wrote  what  he  did,' 
he  said,  meaniu'  the  parson.  'She  knows,  she 
allus  knows,'  he  whispered,  meanin'  you,  Poll, 
and  then  he  was  on  his  way.  He'd  already  give 
me  what  was  saved  up  for  you,  and  I'm  sendin'  it 
along  with  this — "  A  blue  money  order  for  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  had  fluttered  from 
the  envelope  when  Douglas  opened  it. 

"I  got  everythin'  ready  afore  I  went  on  the 
next  day,  an'  I  went  up  and  saw  the  little  spot 
on  the  hill  where  they  was  goin'  to  stow  him.  It 
looked  kinder  nice  and  the  digger's  wife  said 


86  Polly  of  the  Circus 

she'd  put  some  flowers  on  to  it  now  and  then.  It 
was  you  what  made  me  think  o'  that,  Poll, 
'cause  it  seemed  to  me  what  you  would  a'  done; 
you  was  always  so  daffy  about  flowers,  you  and 
him. 

"I  guess  this  letter's  too  long  for  me  to  be 
a-sayin'  much  about  the  show,  but  the  'Leap- 
a-Death'  girl  got  hern  last  week.  She  wasn't 
strong  enough  for  the  job,  nohow.  I  done  what 
I  could  for  her  outside  the  show,  'cause  I  knowed 
how  you  was  always  a-feelin'  'bout  her.  I  guess 
the  'Leap-a-DeathV  husband  is  goin'  to  jump 
his  job  soon,  if  he  gets  enough  saved  up,  'cause 
him  and  Barker  can't  hit  it  off  no  more.  We  got 
a  good  deal  o'  trouble  among  the  animals,  too. 
None  o'  the  snakes  is  sheddin'  like  they  ought 
to,  and  Jumbo's  a-carryin'  a  sixteen  foot  ban- 
dage around  that  trunk  a'  hisn,  'cause  he  got  too 
fresh  with  Trixy's  grub  the  other  night,  and  the 
new  giraffe's  got  the  croup  in  that  seven-foot 
neck  o'  his'n.  I  guess  you'll  think  I  got  the  pip 
for  fair  this  time,  so  I'll  just  get  onto  myself 
now  and  cut  this  short.  I'll  be  writin'  you  agin 
when  we  hit  Morgantown. 

"Your  old  Muwer  Jim." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  87 

Douglas  laid  the  letter  gently  on  the  table,  his 
hand  still  resting  upon  it.  He  looked  helplessly 
at  the  little,  shrunken  figure  in  the  opposite 
chair.  Polly  had  made  no  sound,  but  her  head 
had  slipped  lower  and  lower  and  she  now  sat  very 
quietly  with  her  face  in  her  hands.  She  had 
been  taught  by  Toby  and  Jim  never  to  whimper. 

"What  a  plucky  lot  they  are,"  thought  Doug- 
las, as  he  considered  these  three  lonely  souls, 
each  accepting  whatever  fate  brought  with  no 
rebellion  or  even  surprise.  It  was  a  strange 
world  of  stoics  in  which  these  children  of  the 
amusement  arena  fought  and  lost.  They  came 
and  went  like  phantoms,  with  as  little  conscious- 
ness of  their  own  best  interests  as  of  the  great, 
moving  powers  of  the  world  about  them.  They 
felt  no  throes  of  envy,  no  bitterness.  They  loved 
and  worked  and  "went  their  way." 

For  once  the  pastor  was  powerless  in  the  pres- 
ence of  grief.  Both  he  and  Mandy  left  the 
room  quietly,  feeling  that  Polly  wished  to  be 
spared  the  outburst  of  tears  that  a  sympathetic 
word  might  bring  upon  her.  They  allowed  her 
to  remain  alone  for  a  time,  then  Mandy  entered 
softly  with  a  tender  good  night  and  Douglas  fol- 


88  Polly  of  the  Circus 

lowed  her  cheerily  as  though  nothing  at  all  had 
happened. 

It  was  many  weeks  before  Polly  again  became 
a  companion  to  Douglas  and  Mandy,  but  they 
did  not  intrude  upon  her  grief.  They  waited 
patiently  for  the  time  when  youth  should  again 
assert  itself,  and  bring  back  their  laughing  mate 
to  them. 


Chapter  VIII 

WHEN  Polly  understood  that  Toby  was  actually 
gone,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  never  laugh 
again.  She  had  been  too  young  to  realise  the 
inevitableness  of  death  when  it  came  to  her 
mother,  and  now  she  could  scarcely  believe  that 
Toby  would  never,  never  come  back  to  her.  She 
felt  that  she  must  be  able  to  drag  him  back,  that 
she  could  not  go  on  without  him.  She  wanted  to 
tell  him  how  grateful  she  was  for  all  his  care  of 
her.  She  thought  of  the  thousand  little  things 
that  she  might  have  done  for  him.  She  longed 
to  recall  every  impatient  word  to  him.  His  gen- 
tle reproachful  eyes  were  always  haunting  her. 
"You  must  come  back,  Tobj !"  she  cried.  "You 
must !" 

It  was  only  when  body  and  mind  had  worn 
themselves  out  with  yearning,  that  a  numbness 
at  last  crept  over  her,  and  out  of  this  grew  a 
gradual  consciousness  of  things  about  her  and 
a  returning  sense  of  her  obligation  to  others.  She 
tried  to  answer  in  her  old,  smiling  way  and  to 


90  Polly  of  the  Circus 

keep  her  mind  upon  what  they  were  saying,  in- 
stead of  letting  it  wander  away  to  the  past. 

Douglas  and  Mandy  were  overjoyed  to  see  the 
colour  creeping  back  to  her  cheeks. 

She  joined  the  pastor  again  in  his  visits  to  the 
poor.  The  women  of  the  town  would  often  see 
them  passing  and  would  either  whisper  to  each 
other,  shrug  their  shoulders,  or  lift  their  eye- 
brows with  smiling  insinuations ;  but  Polly  and 
the  pastor  were  too  much  absorbed  in  each  other 
to  take  much  notice  of  what  was  going  on  about 
them. 

They  had  not  gone  for  their  walk  to-day,  be- 
cause Mandy  had  needed  Polly  to  help  make 
ready  for  the  social  to  be  held  in  the  Sunday- 
school-room  to-night. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  Polly  had  seen  Douglas 
shut  himself  up  in  the  study,  and  she  was  sure 
that  he  was  writing ;  so  when  the  village  children 
stopped  in  on  the  way  from  school  for  Mandy's 
new-made  cookies,  she  used  her  customary  trick 
to  get  them  away.  "Tag — you're  it !"  she  cried, 
and  then  dashed  out  the  back  door,  pursued  by 
the  laughing,  screaming  youngsters.  Mandy 
followed  the  children  to  the  porch  and  stood  look- 


Polly  of  the  Circus  91 

ing  after  them,  as  the  mad,  little  band  scurried 
about  the  back  yard,  darted  in  and  out  amongst 
the  trees,  then  up  the  side  of  the  wooded  hill,  just 
beyond  the  church. 

The  leaves  once  more  were  red  and  yellow  on 
the  trees,  but  to-day  the  air  was  warm,  and  the 
children  were  wearing  their  summer  dresses. 
Polly's  lithe,  girlish  figure  looked  almost  tall  by 
comparison  with  the  children  about  her.  She 
wore  a  plain,  simple  gown  of  white,  which  Mandy 
had  helped  her  to  make.  It  had  been  cut  ankle- 
length,  for  Polly  was  now  seventeen.  Her 
quaint,  old-fashioned  manner,  her  serious  eyes, 
and  her  trick  of  knotting  her  heavy,  brown  hair 
low  on  her  neck,  made  her  seem  older. 

Mandy  waited  until  the  children  had  disap- 
peared orer  the  hill,  then  began  bustling  about 
looking  for  the  step-ladder  which  Hasty  had  left 
under  the  yines  of  the  porch.  It  had  been  a  busy 
day  at  the  parsonage.  A  social  always  meant 
perturbation  for  Mandy.  She  called  sharply  to 
Hasty,  as  he  came  down  the  path  which  made 
a  short  cut  to  the  Tillage: 

"So's  you'se  back,  is  you?"  she  asked,  sarcas- 
tically. 


92  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Sure,  I'se  back,"  answered  Hasty,  good- 
naturedly,  as  he  sank  upon  an  empty  box 
that  had  held  some  things  for  the  social,  and 
pretended  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead. 

"Massa  John  done  send  you  to  de  post  office  two 
hours  ago,"  said  Mandy,  as  she  took  the  letters 
and  papers  from  his  hand.  "Five  minutes  is 
plenty  ob  time  for  any  nigger  to  do  dat  job." 

"I  done  been  detained,"  Hasty  drawled. 

"You'se  always  'tained  when  dar's  any  work 
a-goin'  on,"  Mandy  snapped  at  him. 

"Whar's  Miss  Polly?"  Hast}'  asked,  ignoring 
Mandy's  reference  to  work. 

"Nebber  you  mind  'bout  Miss  Polly.  She  don't 
want  you.  Jes'  you  done  fetch  that  step-ladder 
into  de  Sunday-school-room." 

"But  I  wants  her,"  Hasty  insisted.  "I'se  been 
on  very  'ticular  business  what  she  ought  to  know 
'bout." 

"Business?"  she  repeated.  "What  kind  ob  busi- 
ness ?" 

"I  got  to  fix  de  Sunday-school-room,"  said 
Hasty,  as  he  perceived  her  growing  curiosity. 

"You  come  heah,  nigger!"  Mandy  called,  de- 


Polly  of  the  Circus  93 

termined  that  none  of  the  village  doings  should 
escape  her.  "Out  wid  it !" 

"Well,  it's  'bout  de  circus,"  Hasty  answered, 
seating  himself  again  on  the  box.  "Dey's 
showin'  in  Wakefield  to-night,  and  next  month 
dey's  comin'  here." 

"Dat  same  circus  what  Miss  Polly  used  to  be 
wid?"  Mandy's  eyes  grew  large  with  curiosity. 

"De  very  same,"  and  Hasty  nodded  mysteri- 
ously. 

"How  you  know  dat?"  Mandy  was  uncertain 
whether  to  believe  him. 

"  'Cause  da's  a  big,  red  wagon  downtown  wid 
de  name  ob  de  show  painted  on  it.  It's  de  ad- 
vertisin'  one  what  goes  ahead  wid  all  de  pictures 
what  dey  pastes  up." 

"And  you  been   hangin'   'roun'   dat  wagon?" 

"I  done  thought  Miss  Polly  might  want  to 
know." 

"See  here,  lazy  nigger,  don'  you  go  puttin'  no 
circus  notions  into  Miss  Polly's  head.  She  don* 
care  no  more  'bout  dem  things  since  her  Uncle 
Toby  done  die.  She  done  been  satisfied  right 
whar  she  am.  Jes'  you  let  her  be." 

"I  ain't  done  nothin',"  Hasty  protested. 


94  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Nebber  do  do  nothin',"  growled  Mandy.  "Go 
long  now,  and  get  a-work.  Mos'  four  o'clock 
and  dat  Sunday-school-room  ain't  ready  yet." 

Hasty  picked  up  the  empty  box  and  the  step- 
ladder  and  went  out  through  the  gate.  He  had 
barely  disappeared  when  a  peal  of  laughter  was 
heard  from  the  hillside,  and  before  Mandy  could 
get  out  of  the  way,  the  youngsters  came  tum- 
bling down  the  path  again. 

"Lawsy,  lawsy,"  she  gasped,  as  Polly  cir- 
cled around  her,  dodging  the  children.  "You'se 
cheeks  is  red  as  pineys,  honey." 

"Tag!  you're  it!"  Polly  cried,  as  she  touched 
the  widow's  auburn-haired  offspring  on  the 
sleeve.  There  was  much  wailing  when  Willie 
passed  the  tag  to  little  Jennie,  the  smallest  girl 
in  the  crowd. 

"I  won't  play  no  more,"  she  sobbed ;  "  'cause 
I's  always  it." 

To  comfort  her,  Polly  began  to  sing  an  old 
circus  song  that  the  children  had  learned  to  love ; 
and  the  little  ones  huddled  about  her  in  a  circle 
to  hear  of  the  wonderful  "Van  Amberg"  who 
used  to  "walk  right  into  the  lion's  cage  and  put 
his  head  in  the  lion's  mouth."  The  children  were 


Polly  of  the  Circus  95 

in  a  state  of  nerves  that  did  credit  to  Polly  as  an 
entertainer,  when  Hasty  broke  in  upon  the  song. 

"When  you  get  a  minute  I  want  ter  tell  yer 
somethin'." 

"I  have  one  right  now."  And  turning  to  the 
eager  mites  at  her  side,  Polly  told  them  to  run 
along  into  the  grove,  and  that  she'd  come  pretty 
soon  to  teach  them  a  new  game. 

The  youngsters  went  screaming  and  laughing 
on  their  way,  and  she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief 
as  she  threw  herself  down  on  the  rustic  seat  that 
encircled  the  elm  tree. 

"What  is  it,  Hasty  ?"  she  asked,  suspecting  that 
he  was  in  trouble  with  Mandy. 

"It's  'bout  de  circus,"  Hasty  informed  her 
bluntly. 

"The  circus?"  She  rose  and  crossed  to  him 
quickly. 

"It's  in  Wakefield — an'  nex'  month  it's  a-comin5 
here." 

"Here?"  Polly  gasped. 

"I  thought  you'd  want  ter  know,"  said  Hasty,  9, 
little  surprised  at  her  lack  of  enthusiasm. 

"Yes,  of  course."  She  turned  away  and  pre- 
tended to  look  at  the  flowers. 


96  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Don*  yous  tell  Mandy  I  been  talkin'  'bout  dat 
circus,"  said  Hasty,  uneasily.  He  was  begin- 
ning to  fear  that  he  had  made  a  mistake;  but 
before  Polly  could  answer,  Mandy  came  out  of 
the  house,  carrying  baskets  and  food,  which 
Hasty  was  to  take  to  the  Sunday-school-room. 
She  looked  at  the  girl's  troubled  face  and  droop- 
ing shoulders  in  surprise. 

"What  make  you  look  so  serious,  Honey?" 

"Just  thinking,"  said  Polly  absently. 

"My !  Don'  you  look  fine  in  your  new  dress !" 
She  was  anxious  to  draw  the  girl  out  of  her 
reverie. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  Polly  asked  eagerly, 
forgetting  her  depression  of  a  moment  be- 
fore. "Do  you  think  Mr.  John  will  like 
it?" 

"Massa  John?  Mercy  me!  He  nebber  takes 
no  notice  ob  dem  things.  I  done  got  a  bran', 
spankin'  new  allapaca,  one  time,  an*  do  you 
think  Tie  ebber  seed  it  ?  Lawsy,  no !  We  might 
jes'  well  be  goin'  roun'  like  Mudder  Eve  for  all 
dat  man  know."  Polly  looked  disappointed. 
"But  udder  folks  sees,"  Mandy  continued,  com- 
fortingly, "an'  you  certainly  look  mighty  fine. 


Folly  of  the  Circus  97 

Why,  you's  just  as  good  now  as  you  was  afore 
you  got  hurted!" 

"Yes,  I'm  well  now  and  able  to  work  again." 
There  was  no  enthusiasm  in  her  tone,  for  Hasty's 
news  had  made  her  realise  how  unwelcome  the  old 
life  would  be  to  her. 

"Work!  You  does  work  all  de  time.  My 
stars !  de  help  you  is  to  Massa  John." 

"Do  you  think  so?    Do  I  help  him?—     Do  I?" 

"Of  course  you  does.  You  tells  him  things  to 
do  in  Sunday-school  what  the  chillun  like,  an' 
you  learns  him  to  laugh  and  'joy  himself,  an'  a 
lot  of  things  what  nobody  else  could  a-learned 
'im." 

"You  mustn't  say  'learned  him,'  "  Polly  cor- 
rected; "you  must  say  'taught  him.'  You  can't 
'learn'  anybody  anything.  You  can  only  'teach' 
them." 

"Lordy  sakes !  I  didn't  know  dat."  She  rolled 
her  large  eyes  at  her  young  instructress,  and 
saw  that  Polly  looked  very  serious.  "She's  gwine 
ter  have  anudder  one  a  dem  'ticlar  spells" 
thought  Mandy,  and  she  made  ready  to  protest. 

"See  here,  ain't  you  nebber " 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  quick  "Have  you 
never"  from  Polly. 


98  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"It  dun  make  no  difference  what  you  say," 
Mandy  snapped,  "so  long  as  folks  understands 
you."  She  always  grew  restive  under  these  or- 
deals ;  but  Polly's  firm  controlled  manner  gener- 
ally conquered. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  does,"  answered  Polly.  "I  used  to 
think  it  didn't;  but  it  does.  You  have  to  say 
things  in  a  certain  way  or  folks  look  down  on 
you." 

"I's  satisfied  de  way  I  be,"  declared  Mandy,  as 
she  plumped  herself  down  on  the  garden  bench 
and  began  to  fidget  with  resentment. 

"The  way  I  am,"  Polly  persisted,  sweetly. 

"See  here,  chile,  is  day  why  you  been  a-settin' 
up  nights  an'  keepin  de  light  burnin'?" 

"You  mustn't  say  'setting  up;'  you  must  say 
'sitting  up.'  Hens  set " 

"So  do  I,"  interrupted  Mandy;  "I's  doin'  it 
now."  For  a  time  she  preserved  an  injured 
silence,  then  turned  upon  Polly  vehemently.  "If 
I  had  to  think  ob  all  dat  ere  foolishness  eber' 
time  I  open  my  mouth,  I'd  done  been  tongue- 
tied  afore  I  was  born." 

"I  could  teach  you  in  no  time,"  volunteered 
Polly,  eagerly. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  99 

"I  don't  wanb  to  be  teached,"  protested  Mandy, 
doggedly.  "Hast  Jones  says  I's  too  smart  any- 
how. Men  don't  like  women  knowin'  too  much — 
it  skeers  'em.  I's  good  enough  for  my  old  man, 
and  I  ain't  a-tryin'  to  get  nobody  else's,"  Mandy 
wound  up  flatly. 

"But  he'd  like  you  all  the  better,"  persisted 
Polly,  laughing. 

"I  don'  want  to  be  liked  no  better  by  no  nig- 
ger," snapped  Mandy.  "I's  a  busy  woman,  I 
is."  She  made  for  the  house,  then  curiosity 
conquered  her  and  she  came  back  to  Polly's  side. 
"See  here,  honey,  whose  been  1'arnin'  you  all  dem 
nonsense?" 

"I  learn  from  Mr.  Douglas.  I  remember  all 
the  things  he  tells  me,  and  at  night  I  write  them 
down  and  say  them  over.  Do  you  see  this, 
Mandy?"  She  took  a  small  red  book  from  her 
belt  and  put  it  into  Mandy 's  black  chubby  fists. 

"I  see  some  writin',  if  dat's  what  you  mean," 
Mandy  answered,  helplessly. 

"These  are  my  don'ts,"  Polly  confided,  as  she 
pointed  enthusiastically  to  worn  pages  of  finely 
written  notes. 

"You'se  what,  chile?" 


100  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"The  things  I  mustn't  do  or  say." 

"An'  you'se  been  losin'  yoah  beauty  sleep  for 
dem  tings?"  Mandy  looked  incredulous. 

"I  don't  want  Mr.  John  to  feel  ashamed  of 
me,"  she  said  with  growing  pride. 

"Well,  you'd  catch  Mandy  a-settin'  up 
for " 

"Oh,  oh !  What  did  I  tell  you,  Mandy?"  Polly 
pointed  reproachfully  to  the  reminder  in  the  lit- 
tle red  book.  It  was  a  fortunate  thing  thai 
Willie  interrupted  the  lesson  at  this  point,  for 
Mandy's  temper  was  becoming  very  uncertain. 
The  children  had  grown  weary  waiting  for  Polly, 
and  Willie  had  been  sent  to  fetch  her.  Polly 
offered  to  help  Mandy  with  the  decorations,  but 
Willie  won  the  day,  and  she  was  running  away 
hand  in  hand  with  him  when  Douglas  came  out 
of  the  house. 

"Wait  a  minute !"  he  called.  "My,  how  fine  you 
look !"  He  turned  Polly  about  and  surveyed  the 
new  gown  admiringly. 

"He  did  see  it!  He  did  see  it!"  cried  Polly, 
gleefully. 

"Of  course  I  did.  I  always  notice  everything, 
don't  I,  Mandy?" 


Polly  of  the  Circus  101 

"You  suah  am  improvin'  since  Miss  Polly 
come,"  Mandy  grunted. 

"Come,  Willie!"  called  the  girl,  and  ran  out 
laughing  through  the  trees. 

"What's  this?"  Douglas  took  the  small  book 
from  Mandy's  awkward  fingers,  and  began  to 
read :  'Hens  set — ' ':  He  frowned. 

"Oh,  dem's  jes'  Miss  Polly's  'don'ts,'  "  inter- 
rupted Mandy,  disgustedly. 

"Her  'don'ts'?" 

"She  done  ben  set — sit — settin'  up  nights  tryin* 
to  learn  what  you  done  tole  her,"  stuttered 
Mandy. 

"Dear  little  Polly,"  he  murmured,  then  closed 
the  book  and  put  it  into  his  pocket. 


Chapter  IX 

DOUGLAS  was  turning  toward  the  house  when  the 
Widow  Willoughby  came  through  the  wicker 
gate  to  the  left  of  the  parsonage,  carrying  bun 
ting-  for  the  social.  She  was  followed  by  Miss 
Perkins  with  a  bucket  of  pickles,  which  Mandy 
promptly  placed  on  top  of  Mrs.  Elverson's  ice 
cream.  The  women  explained  that  they  had 
come  to  put  the  finishing  touches  to  the  decora- 
tions. If  anything  was  needed  to  increase 
Mandy's  dislike  of  the  widow,  it  was  this  an- 
nouncement. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  was  greatly  worried  because 
her  children  had  not  been  home  since  the  after- 
noon school  session.  Upon  learning  that  they 
were  with  Polly,  she  plainly  showed  her  dis- 
pleasure ;  and  Douglas  dispatched  Mandy  for 
them.  She  saw  that  her  implied  distrust  of  Polly 
had  annoyed  him,  and  she  was  about  to  apol- 
ogise, when  two  of  the  deacons  arrived  on  the 
scene,  also  carrying  baskets  and  parcels  for  the 
social. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  103 

Strong  led  the  way.  He  always  led  the  way 
and  always  told  Elverson  what  to  think.  They 
had  been  talking  excitedly  as  they  neared  the 
parsonage,  for  Strong  disapproved  of  the  recent 
changes  which  the  pastor  had  made  in  the  church 
service.  He  and  Douglas  had  clashed  more  than 
once  since  the  baseball  argument,  and  the  dea- 
con had  realised  more  and  more  that  he  had  met 
a  will  quite  as  strong  as  his  own.  His  failure  to 
bend  the  parson  to  his  way  of  thinking  was  mak- 
ing him  irritable,  and  taking  his  mind  from  his 
business. 

"Can  you  beat  that!"  he  would  exclaim  as  he 
turned  away  from  some  disagreement  with 
Douglas,  his  temper  ruffled  for  the  day. 

Polly  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  unfriendly 
glances  cast  in  her  direction  as  she  came  running 
into  the  garden,  leading  'the  widow's  two 
children. 

She  nodded  gaily  to  Julia  Strong,  who  was 
coming  through  the  gate,  then  hurried  to  Mrs. 
Willoughby,  begging  that  the  children  be  al- 
lowed to  remain  a  little  longer.  She  was  making 
up  a  new  game,  she  said,  and  needed  Willie  and 
Jennie  for  the  set. 


104  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"My  children  do  not  play  in  promiscuous 
games,"  said  the  widow,  icily. 

"Oh,  but  this  isn't  pro-pro-pro" — Polly  stam- 
mered. "It's  a  new  game.  You  put  two  here, 
and  two  here,  and — 

"I  don't  care  to  know."  The  widow  turned 
away,  and  pretended  to  talk  to  Julia. 

"Oh !"  gasped  Polly,  stunned  by  the  widow's 
rebuff. 

She  stood  with  bowed  head  in  the  centre  of  the 
circle.  The  blood  flew  from  her  cheeks,  then 
she  turned  to  go. 

Douglas  stepped  quickly  to  her  side.  "Wait  a 
minute,"  he  said.  She  paused,  all  eyes  were 
turned  upon  them.  "Is  this  a  game  that  grown- 
ups can  play?" 

"Why,  yes,  of  course." 

"Good!  Then  I'll  make  up  your  set.  I  need 
a  little  amusement  just  now.  Excuse  me,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  deacons.  Then  he  ran 
with  her  out  through  the  trees. 

The  deacons  and  the  women  stared  at  each 
other,  aghast. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  said  Mrs. 
Willoughby,  as  the  flying  skirts  of  the  girl  and 


Polly  of  the  Circus  105 

the  black  figure  of  the  man  disappeared  up  the 
path. 

"I  think  it's  scandalous,  if  you  are  talking  to 
me,"  said  Miss  Perkins.  "The  idea  of  a  full- 
grown  parson  a-runnin'  off  to  play  children's 
games  with  a  circus  ridin'  girl!" 

"She  isn't  such  a  child,"  sneered  Julia. 

"It's  enough  to  make  folks  talk,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Willoughby,  with  a  sly  look  at  the  deacons. 

"And  me  a-waitin'  to  discuss  the  new  church 
service,"  bellowed  Strong. 

"And  me  a-waiting  to  give  him  Mrs.  Elverson's 
message,"  piped  Elverson. 

"The  church  bore  all  this  in  silence  so  long  as 
that  girl  was  sick,"  snapped  Miss  Perkins.  "But 
now  she's  perfectly  well,  and  still  a-hanging  on. 
No  wonder  folks  are  talking." 

"Who's  talking?"  thundered  Strong. 

"Didn't  you  know?"  simpered  Mrs.  Wil- 
loughby, not  knowing  herself  nor  caring,  so 
long  as  the  suspicion  grew. 

"Know  what?"  yelled  the  excited  deacon.  Mrs. 
Willoughby  floundered.  Miss  Perkins  rushed 
into  the  breach. 

"Well,  if  /  was  deacon  of  this  church,  it  seems 


106  Polly  of  the  Circus 

to  me  I'd  know  something  about  what's  going  on 
in  it." 

"What  is  goin'  on?"  shrieked  the  now  desperate 
deacon. 

The  women  looked  at  him  pityingly,  exchanged 
knowing  glances,  then  shook  their  heads  at  his 
hopeless  stupidity. 

Strong  was  not  accustomed  to  criticism.  He 
prided  himself  upon  his  acuteness,  and  was, 
above  all,  vain  about  his  connection  with  the 
church.  He  looked  from  one  woman  to  the 
other.  He  was  seething  with  helpless  rage.  The 
little  deacon  at  his  side  coughed  nervously. 
Strong's  pent  up  wrath  exploded.  "Why  didn't 
you  tell  me,  Elverson,  that  people  was  a-talkin'," 
he  roared  in  the  frightened  man's  ear. 

Elverson  sputtered  and  stammered,  but  nothing 
definite  came  of  the  sounds;  so  Strong  again 
turned  to  Miss  Perkins : 

"What  is  going  on?"  he  demanded. 

The  spinster  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  lifted 
her  eyes  heavenward,  knowing  that  nothing  could 
so  madden  the  deacon  as  this  mysterious  infer- 
ence of  things  too  terrible  to  mention.  She  was 
right.  Strong  uttered  a  desperate  "Bah !"  and 


Polly  of  the  Circus  107 

began  pacing  up  and  down  the  garden  with  reck- 
less strides. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  watched  him  with  secret  de 
light,  and  when  he  came  to  a  halt,  she  wriggled 
to  his  side  with  simpering  sweetness. 

"What  could  folks  say?"  she  asked.  "A  min- 
ister and  a  young  circus  riding  girl  living  here 
like  this  with  no  one  to — "  She  found  no  words 
at  this  point  and  Strong,  now  thoroughly  roused, 
declared  that  the  congregation  should  have  no 
further  cause  for  gossip,  and  went  out  quickly 
in  search  of  Douglas. 

When  Strong  was  gone,  Elverson  looked  at  the 
set  faces  of  the  women,  and  attempted  a  weak 
apology  for  the  pastor.  "I  dare  say  the  young 
man  was  very  lonely — very — before  she  came." 

"Lonely?"  snapped  Miss  Perkins.  "Well,  if 
he  was  lonely,  I  didn't  know  it." 

The  deacon  excused  himself  nervously,  and 
went  to  join  Strong. 

The  women  gathered  up  their  buntings,  and 
retired  with  bland  smiles  to  the  Sunday-school- 
room, feeling  that  they  had  accomplished  enough 
for  the  time  being. 

Strong   and   Elverson   crossed  the  yard,   still 


108  Polly  of  the  Circus 

in  search  of  the  pastor.  They  turned  at  the 
sound  of  fluttering  leaves  and  beheld  Douglas, 
hatless,  tearing  down  the  path.  Strong  called 
to  him,  but  Douglas  darted  quickly  behind  the 
hedge.  The  deacons  looked  at  one  another  in 
speechless  astonishment.  Presently  the  silence 
was  broken  by  the  distant  voice  of  Polly  count- 
ing from  one  to  one  hundred.  The  secret  was 
out!  The  pastor,  a  leader  of  the  church,  was 
playing  hide-and-seek. 

"Mr.  Douglas !"  shouted  Strong,  when  his 
breath  had  returned. 

"Hush,  hush!"  whispered  Douglas,  looking 
over  the  hedge.  He  peeped  cautiously  about 
him,  then  came  toward  the  men  with  a  sigh  of 
relief.  "It's  all  right.  She  has  gone  the  other 
way." 

"It'll  be  a  good  thing  for  you  if  she  never 
comes  back,"  said  Strong,  and  Douglas's  quick 
ear  caught  an  unpleasant  meaning  in  his  tone. 

"What's  that?"  the  pastor  asked,  in  a  low, 
steady  voice. 

"We  don't  like  some  of  the  things  that  are 
going  on  here,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about 
'em." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  109 

"Very  well,  but  see  if  you  can't  talk  in  a  lower 
key." 

"Never  mind  about  the  key,"  shouted  Strong, 
angrily. 

"But  I  do  mind."  Something  in  his  eyes  made 
the  deacon  lower  his  voice. 

"We  want  to  know  how  much  longer  that  giri 
is  goin'  to  stay  here  ?" 

"Indeed!  And  why?"  The  colour  was  leav- 
ing Douglas's  face,  and  his  jaw  was  becoming 
very  square. 

"Because  she's  been  here  long  enough." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you  there." 

"Well,  it  don't  make  no  difference  whether  you 
do  or  not.  She's  got  to  go." 

"Go?"  echoed  Douglas. 

"Yes,  sir-e-bob.  We've  made  up  our  minds  to 
that." 

"And  who  do  you  mean  by  'we'?" 

"The  members  of  this  congregation,"  replied 
Strong,  impatiently. 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  are  speaking 
for  them?"  There  was  a  deep  frown  between 
the  young  pastor's  eyes.  He  was  beginning  to 
be  perplexed. 


110  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Yes,  and  as  deacon  of  this  church." 

"Then,  as  deacon  of  this  church,  you  tell  the 
congregation  for  me  that  that  is  my  affair." 

"Your  affair!"  shouted  Strong.  "When  that 
girl  is  living  under  the  church's  roof,  eating  the 
church's  bread!" 

"Just  one  moment!  You  don't  quite  under- 
stand. I  am  minister  of  this  church,  and  for 
that  position  I  receive,  or  am  supposed  to  re- 
ceive, a  salary  to  live  on,  and  this  parsonage, 
rent  free,  to  live  in.  Any  guests  that  I  may 
have  here  are  my  guests,  and  not  guests  of  the 
church.  Remember  that,  please." 

There  was  an  embarrassing  silence.  The  dea- 
cons recalled  that  the  pastor's  salary  waft 
slightly  in  arrears.  Elverson  coughed  meekly. 
Strong  started. 

"You  keep  out  of  this,  Elverson !"  he  cried. 
"I'm  running  this  affair  and  I  ain't  forgetting 
my  duty  nor  the  parson's." 

"I  shall  endeavour  to  do  my  duty  as  I  see  it," 
answered  Douglas,  turning  away  and  dismissing 
the  matter. 

"Your  duty  is  to  your  church,"  thundered 
Strong. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  111 

"You're  right  about  that,  Deacon  Strong," 
answered  Douglas,  wheeling  about  sharply,  "and 
my  duty  to  the  church  is  reason  enough  for  my 
acting  exactly  as  I  am  doing  in  this  case." 

"Is  your  duty  to  the  church  the  only  reason 
you  keep  that  girl  here?" 

"No,  there  are  other  reasons." 

"I  thought  so." 

"You've  heard  her  story — you  must  have  heard. 
She  was  left  with  me  by  an  old  clown  who  be- 
longed in  the  circus  where  she  worked.  Before 
he  died  he  asked  me  to  look  after  her.  She  has 
no  one  else.  I  shall  certainly  do  so." 

"That  was  when  she  was  hurt.  She's  well  now, 
and  able  to  go  back  where  she  came  from.  Do 
you  expect  us  to  have  our  young  folks  associatin' 
with  a  circus  ridin'  girl?" 

"So,  that's  it !"  cried  the  pastor,  with  a  pitying 
look.  "You  think  this  child  is  unfit  for  your 
homes  because  she  was  once  in  a  circus.  For 
some  reason,  circus  to  you  spells  crime.  You 
call  yourself  a  Christian,  Deacon  Strong,  and 
yet  you  insist  that  I  send  a  good,  innocent  girl 
back  to  a  life  which  you  say  is  sinful.  I'm 
ashamed  of  you,  Strong — I'm  ashamed  of  you !" 


112  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"That  talk  don't  do  no  good  with  me,"  roared 
Strong.  He  was  desperate  at  being  accused  of 
an  unchristian  attitude. 

"I  ain't  askin'  you  to  send  her  back  to  the  cir- 
cus. I  don't  care  where  you  send  her.  Get  her 
away  from  here,  that's  all." 

"Not  so  long  as  she  wishes  to  stay." 

"You  won't?"  Strong  saw  that  he  must  try  a 
new  attack.  He  came  close  to  Douglas  and  spoke 
with  a  marked  insinuation.  "If  you  was  a  friend 
to  the  girl,  you  wouldn't  want  the  whole  congre- 
gation a-pointin'  fingers  at  her." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  you're  living  here  alone  with  her 
and  it  looks  bad — bad  for  the  girl,  and  bad  for 
you — and  folks  is  talkin'." 

"Are  you  trying  to  tell  me  that  my  people  are 
evil-minded  enough  to  think  that  I —  Douglas 
stopped.  He  could  not  frame  the  question.  "I 
don't  believe  it,"  he  concluded  shortly. 

"You'll  be  made  to  believe  it  if  you  don't  get 
rid  of  that  girl." 

"Do  you  believe  it?"  He  turned  upon  the  lit- 
tle man  at  his  side  1  "Do  you  believe  it,  Elver- 
son?" 


Polly  of  the  Circus  113 

Elverson  had  been  so  accustomed  to  Strong 
monopolising  the  conversation,  that  he  had  be- 
come hopelessly  lost  as  the  discussion  went  on,  and 
the  sudden  appeal  to  him  all  but  paralysed  his 
power  of  speech.  He  was  still  gurgling  and  sput- 
tering when  Strong  interrupted,  impatiently. 

"It  makes  no  difference  whether  we  believe  it 
or  not.  We're  going  to  do  our  duty  by  the 
church,  and  that  girl  must  leave  or " 

"Or  I  must."  Douglas  pieced  out  Strong's 
phrase  for  himself.  "That  threat  doesn't 
frighten  me  at  all,  deacon.  After  what  you  have 
said,  I  should  refuse  to  remain  in  this  church" — 
the  deacon  stepped  forward  eagerly — "were  it 
not  that  I  realise  more  than  ever  before  how 
much  you  need  me,  how  much  you  ignorant,  nar- 
row-minded creatures  need  to  be  taught  the 
meaning  of  true  Christianity."  The  deacon  was 
plainly  disappointed. 

"Is  it  possible?"  gasped  Elverson,  weakly. 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 
asked  Strong,  when  he  could  trust  himself  to 
speak  again. 

"I  shall  do  what  is  best  for  Miss  Polly,"  said 
the  pastor  quietly  but  firmly. 


114  Polly  of  the  Circus 

He  turned  away  to  show  that  the  interview  was 
at  an  end.  Strong  followed  him.  Douglas 
pointed  to  the  gate  with  a  meaning  not  to  be 
mistaken.  "Good  afternoon,  deacon." 

Strong  hesitated.  He  looked  at  the  pastor,  then 
at  the  gate,  then  at  the  pastor  again.  "I'll  go," 
he  shouted ;  "but  it  ain't  the  end !"  He  slammed 
the  gate  behind  him. 

"Quite  so,  quite  so,"  chirped  Elverson,  not  hav- 
ing the  slightest  idea  of  what  he  was  saying.  He 
saw  the  frigid  expression  on  the  pastor's  face, 
he  coughed  behind  his  hat,  and  followed  Strong. 


Chapter  X 

DOUGLAS  dropped  wearily  onto  the  rustic  bench. 
He  sat  with  drooped  head  and  unseeing  eyes. 
He  did  not  hear  Polly  as  she  scurried  down  the 
path,  her  arms  filled  with  autumn  leaves.  She 
glanced  at  him,  dropped  the  bright-coloured 
foliage,  and  slipped  quickly  to  the  nearest  tree. 
"One,  two,  three  for  Mr.  John,"  she  cried,  as 
she  patted  the  huge,  brown  trunk. 

"Is  that  you,  Polly?"  he  asked  absently. 

"Now,  it's  your  turn  to  catch  me,"  she  said, 
lingering  near  the  tree.  The  pastor  was  again 
lost  in  thought.  "Aren't  you  going  to  play 
any  more?"  There  was  a  shade  of  disappoint- 
ment in  her  voice.  She  came  slowly  to  his 
side. 

"Sit  here,  Polly,"  he  answered  gravely,  point- 
ing to  a  place  on  the  bench.  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

"Now,  I've  done  something  wrong,"  she  pouted. 
She  gathered  up  her  garlands  and  brought  them 
to  a  place  near  his  feet,  ignoring  the  seat  at  his 


116  Polly  of  the  Circus 

side.  "You  might  just  as  well  tell  me  and  get 
it  over." 

"You  couldn't  do  anything  wrong,"  he  an- 
swered, looking  down  at  her. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  could — and  I've  done  it — I  can  see 
it  in  your  face.  What  is  it?" 

"What  have  you  there?"  he  asked,  trying  to 
gain  time,  and  not  knowing  how  to  broach  the 
subject  that  in  justice  to  her  must  be  dis- 
cussed. 

"Some  leaves  to  make  garlands  for  the  social," 
Polly  answered  more  cheerfully.  "Would  yon 
mind  holding  this?"  She  gave  him  one  end  of  a 
string  of  leaves. 

"Where  are  the  children?" 

"Gone  home." 

"You  like  the  children  very  much,  don't  you, 
Polly?"  Douglas  was  striving  for  a  path  that 
might  lead  them  to  the  subject  that  was 
troubling  him. 

"Oh,  no,  I  don't  like  them,  I  love  them."  She 
looked  at  him  with  tender  eyes. 

"You're  the  greatest  baby  of  all."  A  puzzled 
line  came  between  his  eyes  as  he  studied  her  more 
closely.  "And  yet,  you're  not  such  a  child,  are 


Polly  of  the  Circus  117 

you,  Polly?  You're  quite  grown  up,  almost  a 
young  lady."  He  looked  at  her  from  a  strange, 
unwelcome  point  of  view.  She  was  all  of  that 
as  she  sat  at  his  feet,  yearning  and  slender  and 
fair,  at  the  turning  of  her  seventeenth  year. 

"I  wonder  how  you  would  like  to  go  way?"  Her 
eyes  met  his  in  terror.  "Away  to  a  great  school," 
he  added  quickly,  flinching  from  the  very  first 
hurt  that  he  had  inflicted;  "where  there  are  a 
lot  of  other  young  ladies." 

"Is  it  a  place  where  you  would  be  ?"  She  looked 
up  at  him  anxiously.  She  wondered  if  his 
"show"  was  about  to  "move  on." 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  Douglas  answered,  smiling  in 
spite  of  his  heavy  heart. 

"I  wouldn't  like  any  place  without  you,"  she 
said  decidedly,  and  seemed  to  consider  the  sub- 
ject dismissed. 

"But  if  it  was  for  your  good"  Douglas  per- 
sisted. 

"It  could  never  be  for  my  good  to  leave  you." 

"But  just  for  a  little  while,"  he  pleaded.  How 
was  she  ever  to  understand?  How  could  he  take 
from  her  the  sense  of  security  that  he  had  pur- 
posely taught  her  to  feel  in  his  house? 


118  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Not  even  for  a  moment,"  Polly  answered,  with 
a  decided  shake  of  her  head. 

"But  you  must  get  ahead  in  your  studies,"  he 
argued. 

She  looked  at  him  anxiously.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  be  alarmed  at  his  persistence. 

"Maybe  I've  been  playing  too  manj  periscous 
games." 

"Not  periscous,  Polly,  promiscuous." 

"Pro-mis-cuous,"  she  repeated,  haltingly. 
"What  does  that  mean?" 

"Indiscriminate."  He  rubbed  his  forehead  as 
he  saw  the  puzzled  look  on  her  face.  "Mixed 
up,"  he  explained,  more  simply. 

"Our  game  wasn't  mixed  up."  She  was  think- 
ing of  the  one  to  which  the  widow  had  objected. 
"Is  it  promiscuous  to  catch  somebody?" 

"It  depends  upon  whom  you  catch,"  he  answered 
with  a  dry,  whimsical  smile. 

"Well,  I  don't  catch  anybody  but  the  children." 
She  looked  up  at  him  with  serious,  inquiring 
eyes. 

"Never  mind,  Polly.  Your  games  aren't  pro- 
miscuous." She  did  not  hear  him.  She  was 
searching  for  her  book. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  119 

"Is  this  what  you  are  looking  for?"  he  asked, 
drawing  the  missing  article  from  his  pocket. 

"Oh!"  cried  Polly,  with  a  flush  of  embarrass- 
ment. "Mandy  told  you." 

"You've  been  working  a  long  time  on  that." 

"I  thought  I  might  help  you  if  I  learned  every- 
thing you  told  me,"  she  answered,  timidly.  "But 
I  don't  suppose  I  could." 

"I  can  never  tell  you  how  much  you  help  me, 
Polly." 

'Do  I?"  she  cried,  eagerly. 

"I  can  help  more  if  you  will  only  let  me.  I  can 
teach  a  bigger  class  in  Sunday-school  now.  I 
got  to  the  book  of  Ruth  to-day." 

"You  did?"  He  pretended  to  be  astonished. 
He  was  anxious  to  encourage  her  enthusiasm. 

"Urn  hum!"  She  answered  solemnly.  A 
dreamy  look  came  into  her  eyes.  "Do  you 
remember  the  part  that  you  read  to  me  the  first 
day  I  came?"  He  nodded.  He  was  thinking 
how  care-free  they  were  that  day.  How  impos- 
sible such  problems  as  the  present  one  would 
have  seemed  then.  "I  know  every  bit  of  what 
you  read  by  heart.  It's  our  next  Sunday-school 
lesson." 


120  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"So  it  is." 

"Do  you  think  now  that  it  would  be  best  for 
ne  to  go  away  ?"  She  looked  up  into  his  troubled 
face. 

"We'll  see,  we'll  see,"  he  murmured,  then  tried 
to  turn  her  mind  toward  other  things.  "Come 
now,  let's  find  out  whether  you  do  know  your 
Sunday-school  lesson.  How  does  it  begin?'* 
There  was  no  answer.  She  had  turned  awaj 
with  trembling  lips.  "And  Ruth  said" —  he  took 
her  two  small  hands  and  drew  her  face  toward 
him,  meaning  to  prompt  her. 

"Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,"  she  pleaded. 
Her  eyes  met  his.  His  face  was  close  to  hers. 
The  small  features  before  him  were  quivering 
with  emotion.  She  was  so  frail,  so  helpless,  so 
easily  within  his  grasp.  His  muscles  grew  tense 
and  his  lips  closed  firmly.  He  was  battling 
with  an  impulse  to  draw  her  toward  him  and  com- 
fort her  in  the  shelter  of  his  strong,  brave 
arms.  "They  shan't !"  he  cried,  starting  toward 
her. 

Polly  drew  back,  overawed.  Her  soul  had 
heard  and  seen  the  things  revealed  to  each  of  us 
only  once.  She  would  never  again  be  a  child. 


*'Oh,  you  won't  send  me  away,  will  you?" 


Folly  of  the  Circus  121 

Douglas  braced  himself  against  the  back  of  the 
bench. 

"What  was  the  rest  of  the  lesson?"  he  asked  in 
a  firm,  hard  voice. 

"I  can't  say  it  now,"  Polly  murmured.  Her 
face  was  averted;  her  white  lids  fluttered  and 
closed. 

"Nonsense,  of  course  you  can.  Come,  come, 
I'll  help  you."  Douglas  spoke  sharply.  He  was 
almost  vexed  with  her  and  with  himself  for  the 
weakness  that  was  so  near  overcoming  them. 
"And  Ruth  said,  'Entreat  me  not  to  leave 
thee '  " 

"  'Or  to  return  from  following  after  thee.' ' 
She  was  struggling  to  keep  back  the  tears.  "  'For 
whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go,  and  where  thou 
lodgest,  I  will  lodge.     Thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  thy  God  my'  " —    She  stopped. 

"That's  right,  go  on,"  said  Douglas,  striv- 
ing to  control  the  unsteadiness  in  his  own 
voice. 

"Where  thou  diest,  will  I  die' ':  — her  arms  went 
out  blindly. 

"Oh,  you  won't  send  me  away,  will  you?"  she 
sobbed.  "I  don't  want  to  learn  anything  else 


122  Polly  of  the  Circus 

just — except — from  you."  She  covered  her  face 
and  slipped,  a  little,  broken  heap  at  his  feet. 

In  an  instant  the  pastor's  strong  arms  were 
about  her,  his  stalwart  body  was  supporting  her. 
"You  shan't  go  away.  I  won't  let  you — I  won't ! 
Do  you  hear  me,  Polly  ?  I  won't  1" 

Her  breath  was  warm  against  his  cheek.  He 
could  feel  her  tears,  her  arms  about  him,  as  she 
clung  to  him  helplessly,  sobbing  and  quivering  in 
the  shelter  of  his  strong  embrace.  You  are 
never  going  to  leave  me — never!" 

A  new  purpose  had  come  into  his  life,  the  real- 
isation of  a  new  necessity,  and  he  knew  that  the 
fight  which  he  must  henceforth  make  for  this 
child  was  the  same  that  he  must  make  for  himself. 


Chapter  XI 

"I'sE  goin'  into  de  Sunday-school-room  to  take 
off  dat  ere  widow's  finishin'  touches,"  said 
Mandy,  as  she  came  down  the  steps. 

"All  right !"  called  Douglas.  "Take  these  with 
you,  perhaps  they  may  help."  He  gathered  up 
the  garlands  which  Polly  had  left  on  the  ground. 
His  eyes  were  shining,  he  looked  younger  than 
Mandy  had  ever  seen  him. 

Polly  had  turned  her  back  at  the  sound  of 
Mandy's  voice  and  crossed  to  the  elm  tree,  dry- 
ing her  tears  of  happiness  and  trying  to  control 
her  newly  awakened  emotions.  Douglas  felt  in- 
tuitively that  she  needed  this  moment  for  re- 
covery, so  he  piled  the  leaves  and  garlands  high 
in  Mandy's  arms,  then  ran  into  the  house  with 
the  light  step  of  a  boy. 

"I  got  the  set-sit-settin'  room  all  tidied  up," 
said  Mandy  as  she  shot  a  sly  glance  at  Polly. 

"That's  good,"  Polly  answered,  facing  Mandy 
at  last  and  dimpling  and  blushing  guiltily. 

"Mos*    de   sociable   folks   will   mos'   likely    be 


124  Polly  of  the  Circus 

bangin'  roun'  de  parsonage  to-night,  'stead  ob 
stayin'  in  de  Sunday-school-room,  whar  dey  be- 
longs. Las'  time  dat  ere  Widow  Willoughby 
done  set  aroun'  all  ebenin'  a-tellin'  de  parson  as 
how  folks  could  jes'  eat  off'n  her  kitchen  floor, 
an'  I  ups  an'  tells  her  as  how  folks  could  pick 
up  a  good,  squar'  meal  off'n  Mandy's  floor,  too. 
Guess  she'll  be  mighty  careful  what  she  says 
afore  Mandy  to-night."  She  chuckled  as  she 
disappeared  down  the  walk  to  the  Sunday-school- 
room. 

Polly  stood  motionless  where  Mandy  had  left 
her.  She  hardly  knew  which  way  to  turn.  She 
was  happy,  yet  afraid.  She  felt  like  sinking 
upon  her  knees  and  begging  God  to  be  good  to 
her,  to  help  her.  She  who  had  once  been  so  in- 
dependent, so  self-reliant,  now  felt  the  need  of 
direction  from  above.  She  was  no  longer  master 
of  her  own  soul,  something  had  gone  from  her, 
something  that  would  never,  never  come  again. 
While  she  hesitated,  Hasty  came  through  the 
gate  looking  anxiously  over  his  shoulder. 

"Well,  Hast}^?"  she  said,  for  it  was  apparent 
that  Hasty  had  something  important  on  his 
mind. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  125 

"It's  de  big  one  from  de  circus,"  he  whispered, 
excitedly. 

"The  big  one?" 

"You  know —    De  one  what  brung  you." 

"You  don't  mean — ?"  Polly's  question  was 
answered  by  Jim  himself  who  had  f  oUowed  Hasty 
quickly  through  the  gate.  Their  arms  were  in- 
stantly about  each  other.  Jim  forgot  Hasty 
and  every  one  in  the  world  except  Polly,  and 
neither  of  them  noticed  the  horrified  Miss  Per- 
kins and  the  Widow  Willoughby,  who  had  been 
crossing  the  yard  on  their  way  from  the  Sunday- 
school-room  with  Julia. 

"You're  just  as  big  as  ever,"  said  Polly,  when 
she  could  let  go  of  Jim  long  enough  to  look  at 
him.  "You  haven't  changed  a  bit." 

"You've  changed  enough  for  both  of  us."  He 
looked  at  the  unfamiliar  long  skirts  and  the  new 
way  of  doing  her  hair.  "You're  bigger,  Poll; 
more  grown  up  like." 

"Oh,  Jim !"  She  glanced  admiringly  at  the 
new  brown  suit,  the  rather  startling  tie,  and  the 
neat  little  posy  in  Jim's  buttonhole. 

"The  fellows  said  I'd  have  to  slick  up  a  bit  if 
I  was  a-comin'  to  see  you,  so  as  not  to  make  you 


126  Polly  of  the  Circus 

ashamed  of  me.  Do  you  like  'em?"  he  asked, 
looking  down  approvingly  at  his  new  brown 
clothes. 

"Very  much."  For  the  first  time  Jim  noticed 
the  unfamiliar  manner  of  her  speech.  He  began 
to  feel  self-conscious.  A  year  ago  she  would 
have  said,  "You  bet!"  He  looked  at  her  awk- 
wardly. She  hurried  on:  "Hasty  told  me  you 
were  showing  in  Wakefield.  I  knew  you'd  come 
to  see  me.  How's  Barker  and  all  the  boys?" 
She  stopped  with  a  catch  in  her  throat,  and 
added  more  slowly:  "I  suppose  everything's 
different,  now  that  Toby  is  gone." 

"He'd  a-liked  to  a-seen  you  afore  he  cashed  in," 
Jim  answered;  "but  maybe  it  was  just  as  well 
he  didn't.  You'd  hardly  a-knowed  him  toward 
the  last,  he  got  so  thin  an'  peeked  like.  He 
wasn't  the  same  after  we  lost  you,  nobody  was, 
not  even  Bingo." 

"Have  you  still  got  Bingo  ?"  she  asked,  through 
her  tears. 

"Yep,  we  got  him,"  drawled  Jim,  "but  he  ain't 
much  good  no  more.  None  of  the  other  riders 
can  get  used  to  his  gait  like  you  was.  There 
ain't  nobody  with  the  show  what  can  touch  you 


Polly  of  the  Circus  127 

ridin',  there  never  will  be.  Say,  mebbe  you  think 
Barker  won't  let  out  a  yell  when  he  sees  yer 
comin'  back."  Jim  was  jubilant  now,  and  he 
let  out  a  little  yell  of  his  own  at  the  mere  thought 
of  her  return.  He  was  too  excited  to  notice  the 
look  on  Polly's  face.  "Toby  had  a  notion  be- 
fore he  died  that  you  was  never  a-comin'  back, 
but  I  told  him  I'd  change  all  that  once  I  seed  yer, 
and  when  Barker  sent  me  over  here  to-day  to 
look  arter  the  advertising  he  said  he  guessed 
you'd  had  all  you  wanted  a'  church  folks.  'Jes' 
you  bring  her  along  to  Wakefield,'  he  said,  'an* 
tell  her  that  her  place  is  waitin'  for  her,'  and  I 
ivill,  too."  He  turned  upon  Polly  with  sudden 
decision.  "Why,  I  feel  jes'  like  pickin'  yer  up 
in  my  arms  and  carryin'  you  right  off  now." 

"Wait,  Jim !"  She  put  one  tiny  hand  on  his 
arm  to  restrain  him. 

"I  don't  mean — not — to-day — mebbe" — he 
stammered,  uncertainly,  "but  we'll  be  back  here 
a-showin'  next  month." 

"Don't  look  at  me  now,"  Polly  answered,  as 
the  dog-like  eyes  searched  her  face,  "because  I 
have  to  say  something  that  is  going  to  hurt  you, 
Jim." 


128  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"You're  comin',  ain't  yer,  Poll?"  The  big  face 
was  wrinkled  and  care-worn  with  trouble. 

"No,  Jim,"  she  replied  in  a  tone  so  low  that  he 
could  scarcely  hear  her. 

"You  mean  that  you  ain't  never  comin'  back?" 
He  tried  to  realise  what  such  a  decision  might 
mean  to  him. 

"No,  Jim."  She  answered  tenderly,  for  she 
dreaded  the  pain  that  she  must  cause  the  great, 
good-hearted  fellow.  "You  mustn't  care  like 
that,"  she  pleaded,  seeing  the  blank  desolation 
that  had  come  into  his  face.  "It  isn't  because 
I  don't  love  you  just  the  same,  and  it  was  good 
of  Barker  to  keep  my  place  for  me,  but  I  can't 
go  back." 

He  turned  away  ;  she  clung  to  the  rough,  brown 
sleeve.  "Why,  Jim,  when  I  lie  in  my  little  room 
up  there  at  night" — she  glanced  toward  the  win- 
dow above  them — "and  everything  is  peaceful  and 
still,  I  think  how  it  used  to  be  in  the  old  days, 
the  awful  noise  and  the  rush  of  it  all,  the  cheer- 
less wagons,  the  mob  in  the  tent,  the  ring  with 
its  blazing  lights,  the  whirling  round  and  round 
on  Bingo,  and  the  hoops,  always  the  hoops,  till 
my  head  got  dizzy  and  my  eyes  all  dim;  and 


Polly  of  the  Circus  129 

then  the  hurry  after  the  show,  and  the  heat  and 
the  dust  or  the  mud  and  the  ruin,  and  the  rumble 
of  the  wheels  in  the  plains  at  night,  and  the 
shrieks  of  the  animals,  and  then  the  parade,  the 
awful,  awful  parade,  and  I  riding  through  the 
streets  in  tights,  Jim  •  Tights  !"  She  covered 
her  face  to  shut  out  the  memory.  "I  couldn't 
go  back  to  it,  Jim!  I  just  couldn't!"  She 
turned  away,  her  face  still  hidden  in  her  hands. 
He  looked  at  her  a  long  while  in  silence. 

"I  didn't  know  how  you'd  come  to  feel  about 
it,"  he  said  doggedly. 

"You  aren't  angry,  Jim?"  She  turned  to  him 
anxiously,  her  eyes  pleading  for  his  forgiveness. 

"Angry?"  he  echoed,  almost  bitterly.  "I  guess 
it  couldn't  ever  come  to  that  a-tween  you  an' 
me.  I'll  be  all  right."  He  shrugged  his  great 
shoulders.  "It's  just  kinder  sudden,  that's  all. 
You  see,  I  never  figured  on  givin'  yer  up,  and 
when  you  said  you  wasn't  comin'  back,  it  kinder 
seemed  as  though  1  couldn't  see  nothin'  all  my 
life  but  long,  dusty  roads,  and  nobody  in  'em. 
But  it's  all  right  now,  and  I'll  just  be  gettin5 
along  to  the  wagon." 

"But,  Jim,  you  haven't   seen  Mr.  Douglas," 


130  Polly  of  the  Circus 

Polly  protested,  trying  to  keep  him  with  her 
until  she  could  think  of  some  way  to  comfort 
him. 

"I'll  look  in  on  him  comin'  back,"  said  Jim, 
anxious  to  be  alone  with  his  disappointment.  He 
was  out  of  bhe  gate  before  she  could  stop  him. 

"Hurry  back,  won't  you,  Jim?  I'll  be  waiting 
for  you."  She  watched  him  going  quickly  down 
the  road,  his  fists  thrust  into  his  brown  coat 
pockets,  and  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes.  He 
did  not  look  back,  as  he  used  to  do,  to  wave  a 
parting  farewell,  and  she  turned  toward  the 
house  with  a  troubled  heart.  She  had  reached 
the  lower  step  when  Strong  and  Elverson  ap- 
proached her  from  the  direction  of  the  church. 

"Was  that  feller  here  to  take  you  back  to  the 
circus?"  demanded  Strong. 

She  opened  her  lips  to  reply,  but  before  she 
could  speak,  Strong  assured  her  that  the  con- 
gregation wouldn't  do  anything  to  stop  her  if 
she  wished  to  go.  He  saw  the  blank  look  on  her 
face.  "We  ain't  try  in'  to  pry  into  none  of  your 
private  affairs,"  he  explained  ;  "but  my  daughter 
saw  you  and  that  there  feller  a  makin'  up  to  each 
other.  If  you're  calculatin'  •  to  run  away  with 


Polly  of  the  Circus  131 

him,  you'll  save  a  heap  of  trouble  for  the  parson 
by  doin'  it  quick." 

"The  parson!" 

"You  can't  blame  the  congregation  for  not 
wantin'  him  to  keep  you  here.  You  got  sense 
enough  to  see  how  it  looks.  He'd,  see  it,  too,  if 
he  wasn't  just  plain,  bull-headed.  Well  he'd  bet- 
ter get  over  his  stubbornness  right  now,  if  he 
don't  we'll  get  another  minister,  that's  all." 

"Another  minister?  You  don't  mean — ?"  It 
was  clear  enough  now.  She  recalled  Douglas's 
troubled  look  of  an  hour  ago.  She  remembered 
how  he  had  asked  if  she  couldn't  go  away.  It 
was  this  that  he  meant  when  he  promised  not  to 
give  her  up,  no  matter  what  happened.  In  an 
instant  she  was  at  the  deacon's  side  pleading  and 
terrified.  "You  wouldn't  get  another  minister! 
Oh,  please,  Deacon  Strong,  listen  to  me,  listen! 
You  were  right  about  Jim,  he  did  come  to  get 
me  and  I  am  going  back  to  the  circus — only  you 
won't  send  Mr.  Douglas  away,  you  won't!  Say 
you  won't !"  She  was  searching  his  eyes  for 
mercy.  "It  wasn't  his  fault  that  I  kept  staying 
on.  He  didn't  know  how  to  get  rid  of  me.  He 
did  try,  he  tried  only  to-day." 


132  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"So  he's  comin'  'round,"  sneered  Strong. 

"Yes,  yes,  and  you  won't  blame  him  any  more, 
will  you?"  she  hurried  on  anxiously.  "You'll 
let  him  stay,  no  matter  what  he  does,  if  I  prom- 
ise to  go  away  and  never,  never  come  back 
again  ?" 

"I  ain't  holdin'  no  grudge  agin  him,"  Strong 
grumbled.  "He  talks  pretty  rough  sometimes, 
but  he's  been  a  good  enough  minister.  I  ain't 
forgettin'  that." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Strong,  thank  you.  I'll 
get  my  things ;  it  won't  take  a  minute."  She 
was  running  up  the  steps  when  a  sudden  thought 
stopped  her.  She  returned  quickly  to  Strong. 
"We'd  better  not  let  him  know  just  yet.  You 
can  tell  him  afterward.  Tell  him  that  I  ran 
away—  Tell  him  that " 

She  was  interrupted  by  Douglas,  who  came 
from  the  house.  "Hello,  Strong,  back  again?" 
he  asked,  in  some  surprise.  Polly  remained  with 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  deacon,  searching  for 
some  way  of  escape.  The  pastor  approached; 
she  burst  into  nervous  laughter.  "What's  the 
joke?"  Douglas  asked. 

"It's  only  a  little  surprise  that  the  deacon  and 


Polly  of  the  Circus  133 

I  are  planning."  She  tried  to  control  the  catch 
in  her  voice.  "You'll  know  about  it  soon,  won't 
he,  deacon?  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Strong!" 
She  flew  into  the  house,  laughing  hysterically. 

Douglas  followed  her  to  the  steps  with  a  puz- 
zled frown.  It  was  unlike  Polly  to  give  way  to 
her  moods  before  others.  "Have  you  gentlemen 
changed  your  minds  about  the  little  girl  staying 
on?"  he  asked,  uneasily. 

"It's  all  right  now,"  said  Strong,  seating  him- 
self with  a  complacent  air. 

"All  right?  How  so?"  questioned  Douglas, 
more  and  more  puzzled  by  the  deacon's  evident 
satisfaction. 

"Because,"  said  Strong,  rising  and  facing  the 
pastor,  "because  your  circus-ridin'  gal  is  goin' 
to  leave  you  of  her  own  accord." 

"Have  you  been  talking  to  that  girl?"  asked 
Douglas,  sternly. 

"I  have,"  said  Strong,  holding  his  ground. 
"See  here,  deacon,  if  you've  been  browbeating 
that  child,  I  may  forget  that  I'm  a  minister." 
The   knuckles    on    Douglas's    large    fists    grew 
whiter. 

"She's  goin',  I  tell  yer,  and  it  ain't  because  of 


134  Polly  of  the  Circus 

what  I  said  either.  She's  goin'  back  to  the  cir- 
cus." 

"I  don't  believe  you." 

"You  would  a-believed  me  if  you'd  seen  the 
fellow  that  was  just  a-callin'  on  her,  and  her 
a-huggin'  and  a-kissin'  of  him  and  a-promisin' 
that  she'd  be  a-waitin'  for  him  here  when  he 
come  back." 

"You  lie !"  cried  Douglas,  taking  a  step  toward 
the  retreating  deacon. 

"There's  the  fellow  now,"  cried  Strong,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  gate.  "Suppose  you  ask  him 
afore  yer  call  me  a  liar." 

Douglas  turned  quickly  and  saw  Jim  approach- 
ing. His  face  lighted  up  with  relief  at  the 
sight  of  the  big,  lumbering  fellow. 

"How  are  yer,  Mr.  Douglas?"  said  Jim,  awk- 
wardly. 

"You've  seen  Polly?"  asked  Douglas,  shaking 
Jim  cordially  by  the  hand. 

"Yes,  I've  seen  her." 

"The  deacon  here  has  an  idea  that  Polly  is  go- 
ing back  to  the  circus  with  you."  He  nodded  to- 
ward Strong,  almost  laughing  at  the  surprise  in 
store  for  him. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  135 

"Back  to  the  circus?"  asked  Jim. 

"Did  she  say  anything  to  you  about  it?"  He 
was  worried  by  the  bewilderment  in  Jim's  man- 
ner. 

Before  Jim  could  reply,  Polly,  who  had  reached 
the  steps  in  time  to  catch  the  last  few  words, 
slipped  quickly  between  them.  She  wore  her 
coat  and  hat,  and  carried  a  small  brown  satchel. 

"Of  course  I  did,  didn't  I,  Jim?"  she  said,  turn- 
ing her  back  upon  the  pastor  and  motioning  to 
Jim  not  to  answer.  Douglas  gazed  at  her  in 
astonishment. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked  in  a  hoarse, 
strained  voice.  He  glanced  at  the  coat  and  hat. 
"Where  are  you  going?" 

Polly  avoided  his  eyes  and  continued  nervously 
to  Jim. 

"What  made  you  come  back  ?  Why  didn't  you 
wait  for  me  down  the  street?  Now,  you've 
spoiled  everything."  She  pretended  to  be  very 
vexed  with  him.  The  big  fellow  looked  puzzled. 
He  tried  to  protest,  but  she  put  a  warning  finger 
to  her  lips  and  pressed  the  little  brown  satchel 
into  his  hand.  "It's  no  use,"  she  went  on  hur- 
riedly. "We  might  as  well  tell  them  everything 


136  Polly  of  the  Circus 

now."    She  turned  to  Douglas  and  pretended  to 
laugh.    "You  have  found  us  out." 

The  deacons  were  slightly  uneasy ;  the  frown  on 
Douglas's  forehead  was  deepening. 
^  "Oh,  see  how  serious  he  looks,"  she  teased,  with 
a    toss    of  her    head   toward   the    grim-visaged 
pastor. 

"Is  this  some  trick?"  lie  demanded,  sternly. 

"Don't  be  angry,"  she  pleaded.  "Wish  me 
luck." 

She  held  out  one  small  hand ;  he  did  not  take  it. 
She  wavered,  then  she  felt  the  eyes  of  the  dea- 
cons upon  her.  Courage  returned  and  she  spoke 
in  a  firm,  clear  voice :  "I  am  going  to  run  away." 

Douglas  stepped  before  her  and  studied  her 
keenly. 

"Run  away?"  he  exclaimed  incredulously. 

"Yes,  to  the  circus  with  Jim." 

"You  couldn't  do  such  a  thing,"  he  answered, 
excitedly.  "Why,  only  a  moment  ago  you  told 
me  you  would  never  leave  me." 

"Oh,  but  that  was  a  moment  ago,"  she  cried,  in 
a  strained,  high  voice.  "That  was  before  Jim 
came.  You  see,  I  didn't  know  how  I  felt  until 
I  saw  Jim  and  heard  all  about  my  old  friends, 


Polly  of  the  Circus  137 

how  Barker  is  keeping  my  place  for  me,  and 
how  they  all  want  to  see  me.  And  7  want  to  see 
them,  and  to  hear  the  music  and  the  laughter 
and  the  clown  songs —  Oh,  the  clown  songs!" 
She  waltzed  about,  humming  the  snatch  of  mel-  j 
ody  that  Mandy  had  heard  the  morning  that 
Polly  first  woke  in  the  parsonage. 

"Ting,  ling. 

That's  how  the  bells  ring, 

Ting,  ling,  pretty  young  thing" 

She  paused,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  head, 
and  gazed  at  them  with  a  brave,  little  smile. 
"Oh,  it's  going  to  be  fine !  Fine !" 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  doing,"  said 
Douglas.  He  seized  her  roughly  by  the  arm. 
Pain  was  making  him  brutal.  "I  won't  let  you 
go !  Do  you  hear  me  ?  I  won't — not  until  you've 
thought  it  over." 

"I  have  thought  it  over,"  Polly  answered,  meet- 
ing his  eyes  and  trying  to  speak  lightly.  Her 
lips  trembled.  She  could  not  bear  for  him  to 
think  her  so  ungrateful.  She  remembered  his 
great  kindness;  the  many  thoughtful  acts  that 
had  made  the  past  year  so  precious  to  her. 

"You've  been  awfully  good  to  me,  Mr.  John." 


138  Polly  of  the  Circus 

She  tried  to  choke  back  a  sob.  "I'll  never  forget 
it — never !  I'll  always  feel  the  same  toward  you. 
But  you  mustn't  ask  me  to  stay.  I  want  to  get 
back  to  them  that  knew  me  first — to  my  own! 
Circus  folks  aren't  cut  out  for  parsons'  homes, 
and  I  was  born  in  the  circus.  I  love  it — I  love 
it!  She  felt  her  strength  going,  and  cried  out 
wildly:  "I  want  Bingo!  I  want  to  go  round 
and  round  the  ring !  I  want  the  lights  and  the 
music  and  the  hoops !  I  want  the  shrieks  of  the 
animals,  and  the  rumble  of  the  wheels  in  the 
plains  at  night !  I  want  to  ride  in  the  big  pa- 
rade !  I  want  to  live  and  die — just  die — as  circus 
folks  die !  I  want  to  go  back !  I  want  to  go 
back !" 

She  put  out  one  trembling  hand  to  Jim  and 
rushed  quickly  through  the  gate  laughing  and 
sobbing  hysterically  and  calling  to  him  to  follow. 


Chapter  XII 

LONELY  da.js  followed  Polly's  desertion  of  the 
parsonage.  Mandy  went  about  her  duties  very 
quietly,  feeling  that  the  little  comments  which 
once  amused  the  pastor  had  now  become  an  in- 
terruption to  thoughts  in  which  she  had  no  part. 
He  would  sit  for  hours  with  his  head  in  his  hands, 
taking  no  notice  of  what  passed  before  him.  She 
tried  to  think  of  new  dishes  to  tempt  his  appetite, 
and  shook  her  head  sadly  as  she  bore  the  un- 
tasted  food  back  to  the  kitchen. 

She  sometimes  found  a  portfolio  of  drawings 
lying  open  upon  his  study  table.  She  remem- 
bered the  zeal  with  which  he  had  planned  to  re- 
model the  church  and  parsonage,  when  he  first 
came  to  them ;  how  his  enthusiasm  had  gradually 
died  for  lack  of  encouragement ;  and  how  he  had 
at  last  put  his  books  in  a  cupboard,  where  they 
grew  dusty  from  long  neglect.  She  marvelled  at 
their  reappearance  now,  but  something  in  his 
set,  far-away  look  made  her  afraid  to  inquire. 
Thus  she  went  on  from  day  to  day,  growing 


140  Polly  of  the  Circus 

more  impatient  with  Hasty  and  more  silent  with 
the  pastor. 

Mandy  needed  humor  and  companionship  to 
oil  the  wheels  of  her  humdrum  life ;  there  was 
no  more  laughter  in  the  house,  and  she  began  to 
droop. 

Polly  had  been  away  from  the  parsonage  a 
month,  when  the  complacency  of  the  village  was 
again  upset  by  the  arrival  of  the  "Great  Ameri- 
can Circus." 

There  were  many  callers  at  the  parsonage  that 
day,  for  speculation  was  now  at  fever  heat 
about  the  pastor.  "Would  he  try  to  see  her?  had 
he  forgotten  her?  and  what  had  he  ever  found 
in  her?"  were  a  few  of  the  many  questions  that 
the  women  were  asking  each  other.  Now,  that 
the  cause  of  their  envy  was  removed,  they  would 
gladly  have  reinstated  the  pastor  as  their  idol; 
for,  like  all  truly  feminine  souls,  they  could  not 
bear  to  see  a  man  unhapp}r  without  wishing  to 
comfort  him,  nor  happy  unless  they  were  the 
direct  cause  of  his  state.  "How  dare  any  man 
be  happy  without  me?"  has  been  the  cry  of  each 
woman  since  Eve  was  created  to  mate  with  Adam. 

Douglas  had  held  himself  more  and  more  aloof 


Polly  of  the  Circus  141 

from  the  day  of  Polly's  disappearance.  He  ex- 
pressed no  opinion  about  the  deacons  or  their 
recent  disapproval  of  him.  He  avoided  meeting 
them  oftener  than  duty  required;  and  Strong 
felt  so  uncomfortable  and  tongue-tied  in  his 
presence  that  he,  too,  was  glad  to  make  their 
talks  as  few  as  possible. 

Nothing  was  said  about  the  pastor's  plans  for 
the  future,  or  about  his  continued  connection 
with  the  church,  and  the  inquisitive  sisterhood 
was  on  the  point  of  exploding  from  an  over-ac- 
cumulation of  unanswered  questions. 

He  delivered  his  sermons  conscientiously,  called 
upon  his  poor,  listened  to  the  sorrows,  real  and 
fancied,  of  his  parishioners,  and  shut  himself 
up  with  his  books  or  walked  alone  on  the  hill 
behind  the  church. 

He  had  been  absent  all  day,  when  Mandy  looked 

•out  on  the  circus  lot  for  the  dozenth  time,  and 

I  saw  that  the  afternoon  performance  was  closing. 

It  had  driven  her  to  desperation  to  learn  that 

Miss  Polly  was  not  in  the  parade  that  morning, 

and    to  know  that  the  pastor  had  made  no  effort 

to  find  out  about  her.     For  weeks  both  she  and 

Hasty  had  hoped  that  the  return  of  the  circus 


142  Polly  of  the  Circus 

might  bring  Polly  back  to  them ;  but  now  it  was 
nearly  night  and  there  had  been  no  word  from 
her.  Why  didn't  she  come  running  in  to  see 
them,  as  Mandy  had  felt  so  sure  she  would  ?  Wh j 
had  the  pastor  stayed  away  on  the  hills  al 
day? 

Unanswered  questions  were  always  an  abomina- 
tion to  Mandy,  so  finally  she  drew  a  quarter  from 
the  knotted  gingham  rag  that  held  her  small 
wad  of  savings,  and  told  Hasty  "to  go  long  to 
de  show  and  find  out  'bout  Miss  Polly." 

She  was  anxiously  waiting  for  him,  when  Dea- 
con Strong  knocked  at  the  door  for  the  second 
time  that  afternoon. 

"Is  Mr.  Douglas  back  yet?"  he  asked. 

"No,  sah,  he  ain't,"  said  Mandy,  very  shortly. 
She  felt  that  Strong  and  Elverson  had  been 
"a-tryin*  to  spy  on  de  parson  all  day,"  and  she 
resented  their  visits  more  than  she  usually  did. 

"What  time  are  you  expectin'  him?" 

"I  don't  nebber  spec'  Massa  Douglas  till  I 
sees  him." 

Strong  grunted  uncivilly,  and  went  down  the 
steps.  She  saw  from  the  window  that  he  met 
Elverson  in  front  of  the  church. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  143 

"Dey  sure  am  a-meanin'  trouble,"  she  mum- 
bled. 

The  band  had  stopped  playing ;  the  last  of  the 
audience  had  straggled  down  the  street.  She 
opened  the  door  and  stood  on  the  porch;  the 
house  seemed  to  suffocate  her.  What  was  keep- 
ing Hasty? 

He  came  at  last,  but  Mandy  could  tell  from 
his  gait  that  he  brought  unwelcome  news. 

"Ain't  she  dar?" 

"She's  wid  'em,  all  right,"  said  Hasty. 

"Yuh  seed  her?" 

"Naw,  I  didn't  done  seed  her." 

"What?" 

"She  want  in  de  show." 

"What  you  jes'  tell  me?" 

"She's  a-trabbelin'  wid  'em,  Mandy,  but  she 
didn't  done  ride." 

"See  heah,  Hasty  Jones,  is  dat  ere  chile  sick?" 

"I  don'  rightly  know,"  said  Hasty.  "A  great 
big  man,  what  wored  clothes  like  a  gemmen, 
corned  out  wid  a  whip  in  his  hand  and  says  as 
how  he's  'bliged  to  'nounce  anudder  gal  in  Miss 
Polly's  place.  An'  den  he  says  as  how  de  udder 
gal  was  jes'  as  good,  an'  den  everybody  look 


144  Polly  of  the  Circus 

disappinted  like,  an'  den  out  comes  de  udder  gal 
on  a  boss  an'  do  tricks,  an'  I  ain't  heard  no  more 
'bout  Miss  Polly." 

"Why  didn't  you  done  ask  somebody?" 

"Warn't  nobody  ter  ask  but  de  man  what  wuz 
hurry  in'  ever'body  to  get  out  of  de  tent.  I 
done  ast  him,  but  he  say  as  'didn't  I  git  ma 
money's  worth?'  an'  den  ebberbody  laugh,  an' 
he  shove  me  'long  wid  de  rest  of  de  folks,  an* 
here  I  is." 

"She's  sick,  dat's  what  /  says,"  Mand}7  declared, 
excitedly ;  "an'  somebody's  got  to  do  somethin' !" 

"I  done  all  I  knowed,"  drawled  Hasty,  fearing 
that  Mandy  was  regretting  her  twenty-five-cent 
investment. 

"Go  'long  out  an'  fix  up  dat  ere  kitchen  fire," 
was  Mandy's  impatient  reply.  "I  got  to  keep 
dem  vittels  warm  fer  Massa  John." 

She  wished  to  be  alone,  so  that  she  could  think 
of  some  way  to  get  hold  of  Polly.  "Dat  baby- 
faced  mornin'-glory  done  got  Mandy  all  wobbly 
'bout  de  heart,"  she  declared  to  herself,  as  she 
crossed  to  the  window  for  a  sight  of  the  pastor. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  she  saw  him  coming 
slowly  down  the  path  from  the  hill.  She  lighted 


Uy  of  the  Circus  145 

the  study-lamp,  rearranged  the  cushions,  and 
tried  to  make  the  room  look  cheery  for  his  en- 
trance. He  stopped  in  the  hall  and  hung  up 
his  hat.  There  was  momentary  silence.  Would 
he  shut  himself  in  his  room  for  the  night,  or 
would  he  come  into  the  study?  At  last  the  door 
opened  and  Mandy  hastened  to  place  a  chair 
for  him. 

"Airs  'fraid  you'se  mighty  tired,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  Douglas,  absently. 

"Mebbe  you'd  like  Mandy  to  be  sarvin'  your 
supper  in  here  to-night.  It's  more  cheerfuller." 

The  side-showman  was  already  beginning  his 
spiel  in  the  lot  below.  The  lemonade  venders 
and  the  popcorn  sellers  were  heard  crying  their 
wares.  Douglas  did  not  answer  her.  She  bus- 
tled from  the  room,  declaring  "she  was  jes'  goin' 
ter  bring  him  a  morsel." 

He  crossed  to  the  window  and  looked  out  upon 
the  circus  lot.  The  flare  of  the  torches  and  the 
red  fire  came  up  to  meet  his  pale,  tense  face. 
"How  like  the  picture  of  thirteen  months  ago," 
he  thought,  and  old  Toby's  words  came  back  to 
him —  "The  show  has  got  to  go  on." 

Above  the  church  steeple,  the  moon  was  bat- 


146  Polly  of  the  Circus 

tling  its  way  through  the  clouds.  His  eyes  trav- 
elled from  heaven  to  earth.  There  was  a  spirit 
of  unreality  in  it  all.  Something  made  him 
mistrust  himself,  his  very  existence.  He  longed 
to  have  done  with  dreams  and  speculation,  to 
feel  something  tangible,  warm,  and  real  within 
his  grasp.  "I  can't  go  on  like  this !"  he  cried. 
"I  can't !"  He  turned  from  the  window  and 
walked  hurriedly  up  and  down  the  room ;  indoors 
or  out,  he  found  no  rest.  He  threw  himself  in 
the  armchair  near  the  table,  and  sat  buried  in 
thought. 

Mandy  came  softly  into  the  room.  She  was 
followed  by  Hasty,  who  carried  a  tray,  laden 
with  things  that  ought  to  have  tempted  any 
man.  She  motioned  for  Hasty  to  put  the  tray 
on  the  table,  and  then  began  arranging  the  dishes. 
Hasty  stole  to  the  window,  and  peeped  out  at 
the  tempting  flare  of  red  fire. 

When  Douglas  discovered  the  presence  of  his 
two  "faithfuls"  he  was  touched  with  momentary 
contrition.  He  knew  that  he  often  neglected  to 
chat  with  them  now,  and  he  made  an  effort  to 
say  something  that  might  restore  the  old  feeling 
of  comradeship. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  147 

"Have  you  had  a  hard  day  with  the  new  gravel 
walk?"  he  asked  Hasty,  remembering  that  he  had 
been  laying  a  fresh  path  to  the  Sunday-school- 
room. 

Hasty  glanced  uneasily  at  Mandy,  afraid  either 
to  lie  or  tell  the  truth  about  the  disposition  she 
had  made  of  his  afternoon. 

"Jes'  you  come  eat  yo'  supper,"  Mandy  called 
to  Douglas.  "Don'  yous  worry  your  head  'bout 
dat  lazy  husban'  ob  mine.  He  ain'  goin'  ter 
work  'nuff  to  hurt  hisself ."  For  an  instant  she 
had  been  tempted  to  let  the  pastor  know  how 
Hasty  had  gone  to  the  circus  and  seen  nothing 
of  Polly ;  but  her  motherly  instinct  won  the  day 
and  she  urged  him  to  eat  before  disturbing  him 
with  her  own  anxieties.  It  was  no  use.  He 
only  toyed  with  his  food;  he  was  clearly  ill  at 
ease  and  eager  to  be  alone.  She  gave  up  trying 
to  tempt  his  appetite,  and  began  to  lead  up  in  a 
roundabout  way  to  the  things  which  she  wished 
to  ask. 

"Dar's  quite  some  racket  out  dar  in  de  lot  to- 
night," she  said ;  Douglas  did  not  answer.  After 
a  moment,  she  went  on :  "Hasty  didn't  work  on 
no  walk  to-day."  Douglas  looked  at  her  quiz- 


148  Polly  of  the  Circus 

zically,  while  Hasty,  convinced  that  for  reasons 
of  her  own  she  was  going  to  get  him  into  trouble, 
was  making  frantic  motions.  "He  done  gone  to 
de  circus,"  she  blurted  out.  Douglas's  face  be- 
came suddenly  grave.  Mandy  saw  that  she  had 
touched  an  open  wound. 

"I  jes'  couldn't  stan'  it,  Massa  John.  I  had  to 
find  out  'bout  dat  angel  chile."  There  was  a 
pause.  She  felt  that  he  was  waiting  for  her  to 
go  on. 

"She  didn't  done  ride  to-day." 

He  looked  up  with  the  eyes  of  a  dumb,  perse- 
cuted animal.  "And  de  gemmen  in  de  show 
didn't  tell  nobody  why — jes'  speaked  about*  de 
udder  gal  takin'  her  place." 

"Why  didn't  she  ride?"  cried  Douglas,  in  an 
agony  of  suspense. 

"Dat's  what  I  don'  know,  sah."  Mandy  began 
to  cry.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  experience 
that  Douglas  had  ever  known  her  to  give  way 
to  any  such  weakness.  He  walked  up  and  down 
the  room,  uncertain  what  to  do. 

Hasty  came  down  from  the  window  and  tried  to 
put  one  arm  about  Mandy's  shoulders. 

"Leab  me  alone,  you  nigga!"   she  exclaimed. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  149 

trying  to  cover  her  tears  with  a  show  of  anger 
that  she  did  not  feel;  then  she  rushed  from  the 
room,  followed  by  Hasty. 

The  band  was  playing  loudly ;  the  din  of  the 
night  performance  was  increasing.  Douglas's 
nerves  were  strained  to  a  point  of  breaking.  He 
would  not  let  himself  go  near  the  window.  He 
stood  by  the  side  of  the  table,  his  fists  clenched, 
and  tried  to  beat  back  the  impulse  that  was  pull- 
ing him  toward  the  door.  Again  and  again  he 
set  his  teeth. 

It  was  uncertainty  that  gnawed  at  him  so. 
Was  she  ill?  Could  she  need  him?  Was  she 
sorry  for  having  left  him?  Would  she  be  glad 
if  he  went  for  her  and  brought  her  back  with 
him?  He  recalled  the  hysterical  note  in  her  be- 
haviour the  day  that  she  went  away ;  how  she 
had  pleaded,  only  a  few  moments  before  Jim 
came,  never  to  be  separated  from  him.  Had  she 
really  cared  for  Jim  and  for  the  old  life?  Why 
had  she  never  written  ?  Was  she  ashamed  ?  Was 
she  sorry  for  what  she  had  done?  What  could 
it  mean?  He  threw  his  hands  above  his  head 
with  a  gesture  of  despair.  A  moment  later,  he 
passed  out  into  the  night. 


Chapter  XIII 

JIM  was  slow  to-night.  The  big  show  was  nearly 
over,  yet  many  of  the  props  used  in  the  early 
part  of  the  bill  were  still  unloaded.  i 

He  was  tinkering  absent-mindedly  with  one  of 
the  wagons  in  the  back  lot,  and  the  men  were 
standing  about  idly,  waiting  for  orders,  when 
Barker  came  out  of  the  main  tent  and  called  to 
him  sharply: 

"Hey,  there,  Jim !  What's  your  excuse  to- 
night?" 

"Excuse  for  what?"  Jim  crossed  slowly  to 
Barker. 

"The  cook  tent  was  started  half  an 
hour  late,  and  the  side  show  top  ain't  loaded 
yet." 

"Your  wagons  is  on  the  bum,  that's  what! 
Number  thirty-eight  carries  the  cook  tent  and 
the  blacksmith  has  been  tinkering  with  it  all  day. 
Ask  him  what  shape  it's  in." 

"You're  always  stallin',"  was  Barker's  sullen 
complaint.  "It's  the  wagons,  or  the  black- 


Folly  of  the  Circus  151 

smiths,  or  anything  but  the  truth.  /  know  what's 
the  matter,  all  right." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Jim, 
sharply. 

"I  mean  that  all  your  time's  took  up  a-carryin' 
and  a-fetchin'  for  that  girl  what  calls  you  'Muv- 
ver  Jim.' ' 

"What  have  yer  got  to  say  about  her?"  Jim 
eyed  him  with  a  threatening  look. 

"I  got  a-plenty,"  said  Barker,  as  he 
turned  to  snap  his  whip  at  the  small  boys 
who  had  stolen  into  the  back  lot  to  peek 
under  the  rear  edge  of  the  "big  top."  "She's 
been  about  as  much  good  as  a  sick  cat  since 
she  come  back.  You  saw  her  act  last 
night." 

"Yes,"  answered  Jim,  doggedly. 

"Wasn't  it  punk?  She  didn't  show  at  all  this 
afternoon — said  she  was  sick.  And  me  with  all 
them  people  inside  what  knowed  her,  waitin'  ter 
see  'er." 

"Give  her  a  little  time,"  Jim  pleaded.  "She 
ain't  rode  for  a  year." 

"Time !"  shouted  Barker.  "How  much  does  she 
want?  She's  been  back  a  month  and  instead  o' 


152  Polly  of  the  Circus 

bracin'  up,  she's  a-gettin'  worse.  There's  only 
one  thing  for  me  to  do." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Jim,  uneasily. 

"I'm  goin'  ter  call  her,  and  call  her  hard." 

"Look  here,  Barker,"  and  Jim  squared  his 
shoulders  as  he  looked  steadily  at  the  other  man ; 
"you're  boss  here,  and  I  takes  orders  from  you, 
but  if  I  catches  you  abusin'  Poll,  your  bein* 
boss  won't  make  no  difference." 

"You  can't  bluff  me,"  shouted  Barker. 

"I  ain't  bluffin' ;  I'm  only  tellin'  yer,"  said  Jim, 
very  quietly. 

"Well,  you  tell  her  to  get  onto  her  job.  If  she 
don't  she  quits,  that's  all."  He  hurried  into  the 
ring. 

Jim  took  one  step  to  follow  him,  then  stopped 
and  gazed  at  the  ground  with  thoughtful  eyes. 
He,  too,  had  seen  the  change  in  Polly.  He  had 
tried  to  rouse  her ;  it  was  no  use.  She  had  looked 
at  him  blankly.  'If  she  would  only  complain," 
he  said  to  himself.  "If  she  would  only  get  mad, 
anything,  anything  to  wake  her."  But  she  did 
not  complain.  She  went  through  her  daily  rou- 
tine very  humbly  and  quietly.  She  sometimes 
wondered  how  Jim  could  talk  so  much  about  her 


Polly  of  the  Circus  153 

work,  but  before  she  could  answer  the  question, 
her  mind  drifted  back  to  other  days,  to  a  garden 
and  flowers,  and  Jim  stole  away  unmissed,  and 
left  her  with  folded  hands  and  wide,  staring  eyes, 
gazing  into  the  distance. 

The  memory  of  these  times  made  Jim  helpless 
to-night.  He  had  gone  on  hoping  from  day  to 
day  that  Barker  might  not  notice  the  "let-down" 
in  her  work,  and  now  the  blow  had  fallen.  How 
could  he  tell  her? 

One  of  the  acts  came  tumbling  out  of  the  main 
tent.  There  was  a  moment's  confusion,  as 
clowns,  acrobats  and  animals  passed  each  other 
on  their  way  to  and  from  the  ring,  then  the  lot 
cleared  again,  and  Polly  came  slowly  from  the 
dressing  tent.  She  looked  very  different  from 
the  little  girl  whom  Jim  had  led  away  from  the 
parson's  garden  in  a  simple,  white  frock  one 
month  before.  Her  thin,  pensive  face  contrasted 
oddly  with  her  glittering  attire.  Her  hair  was 
knotted  high  on  her  head  nd  intertwined  with 
flowers  and  jewels.  Her  slender  neck  seemed 
scarcely  able  to  support  its  burden.  Her  short, 
full  skirt  and  low  cut  bodice  were  ablaze  with 
white  and  coloured  stones. 


154  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"What's  on,  Jim?"  she  asked. 

"The  'Leap  o'  Death!'  "  You  got  plenty  a' 
time." 

Polly's  mind  went  back  to  the  girl  who  an- 
swered that  call  a  year  ago.  Her  spirit  seemed 
very  near  to-night.  The  band  stopped  playing. 
Barker  made  his  grandiloquent  announcement 
about  the  wonderful  act  about  to  be  seen,  and  her 
eyes  wandered  to  the  distant  church  steeple. 
The  moonlight  seemed  to  shun  it  to-night.  It 
looked  cold  and  grim  and  dark.  She  wondered 
whether  the  solemn  bell  that  once  called  its  flock 
to  worship  had  become  as  mute  as  her  own  dead 
heart.  She  did  not  hear  the  whirr  of  the  great 
machine  inside  the  tent,  as  it  plunged  through 
space  with  its  girl  occupant.  These  things  were 
a  part  of  the  daily  routine,  part  of  the  strange, 
vague  dream  through  which  she  must  stumble  for 
the  rest  of  her  life. 

Jim  watched  her  in  silence.  Her  face  was 
turned  from  him.  She  had  forgotten  his  pres- 
ence. 

"Star  gazin',  Poll?"  he  asked  at  length,  dread- 
ing to  disturb  her  revery. 

"I  guess  I  was,  Jim."     She  turned  to  him  with 


Polly  of  the  Circus  155 

a  little,  forced  smile.  He  longed  to  sare  her 
from  Barker's  threatened  rebuke. 

"How  yer  feelin'  to-night?" 

"I'm  all  right,"  she  answered,  cheerfully 

"Any thin'  yer  want?" 

"Want?"  she  turned  upon  him  with  startled 
eyes.  There  was  so  much  that  she  wanted,  that 
the  mere  mention  of  the  word  had  opened  a  well 
of  pain  in  her  heart. 

"I  mean,  can  I  do  anythin'  for  you?" 

"Oh,  of  course  not."  She  remembered  how  lit- 
tle any  one  could  do. 

"What  is  it,  Poll?"  he  begged;  but  she  only 
turned  away  and  shook  her  head  with  a  sigh.  He 
followed  her  with  anxious  eyes.  "What  made 
yer  cut  out  the  show  to-day?  Was  it  because 
you  didn't  want  ter  ride  afore  folks  what  knowed 
yer?  Ride  afore  him,  mebbe?" 

"Him?"  Her  face  was  white.  Jim  feared  she 
might  swoon.  "You  don't  mean  that  he  was " 

"Oh,  no,"  he  answered,  quickly,  "of  course  not. 
Parsons  don't  come  to  places  like  this  one.  I 
was  only  figurin'  that  yer  didn't  want  other  folks 
to  see  yer  and  to  tell  him  how  you  was  ridin'." 
She  did  not  answer. 


356  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Was  that  it,  Poll?"  he  urged. 

"I  don't  know."     She  stared  into  space. 

"Was  it?" 

"I  guess  it  was,"  she  said,  after  a  long  time. 

"I  knowed  it,"  he  cried.  "I  was  a  fool  to 
a-brung  you  back.  Yer  don't  belong  with  us  no 
more." 

"Oh,  don't,  Jim!  don't!  Don't  make  me  feel 
I'm  in  the  way  here,  too !" 

"Here,  too?"  He  looked  at  her  in  astonish- 
ment. "Yer  wasn't  in  Ms  way,  was  yer,  Poll?" 

"Yes,  Jim."  She  saw  his  look  of  unbelief  and 
continued  hurriedly.  "Oh,  I  tried  not  to  be.  I 
tried  so  hard.  He  used  to  read  me  verses  out  of 
a  Bible  about  my  way  being  his  way  and  my 
people  his  people,  but  it  isn't  so,  Jim.  Your 
way  is  the  way  you  are  born,  and  your  people 
are  the  people  you  are  born  with,  and  you 
can't  change  it,  Jim,  no  matter  how  hard  you 
try." 

"You  was  changin'  it,"  he  answered,  savagely. 
"You  was  gettin'  jes'  like  them  people.  It  was 
me  what  took  yer  away  and  spoiled  it  all.  You 
oughtn't  to  a  come.  What  made  yer,  after  yer 
said  yer  wouldn't?" 


Polly  of  the  Circus  157 

She  did  not  answer.  Strange  things  were  go- 
ing through  the  mind  of  the  slow-witted 
Jim.  He  braced  himself  for  a  difficult 
question. 

"Will  yer  answer  me  somethin'  straight?"  he 
asked. 

"Why,  of  course,"  she  said  as  she  met  his 
gaze. 

"Do  you  love  the  parson,  Poll?" 

She  started. 

"Is  that  it?" 

Her  lids  fluttered  and  closed,  she  caught  her 
breath  quickly,  her  lips  apart,  then  looked  far 
into  the  distance. 

"Yes,  Jim,  I'm  afraid— that's  it."  The  little 
figure  drooped,  and  she  stood  before  him 
with  lowered  eyes,  unarmed.  Jim  looked 
at  her  helplessly,  then  shook  his  big,  stupid 
head. 

"Ain't  that  hell?" 

It  seemed  such  a  short  time  to  Jim  since  he  had 
picked  her  up,  a  cooing  babe,  at  her  dead 
mother's  side.  He  watched  the  tender,  averted 
face.  Things  had  turned  out  so  differently  from 
what  he  had  planned. 


158  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"And  he  didn't  care  about  you — like  that?"  he 
asked,  after  a  pause. 

"No,  not  in  that  way."  She  was  anxious  to  de- 
fend the  pastor  from  even  the  thought  of  such  a 
thing.  "He  was  good  and  kind  always,  but  he 
didn't  care  that  way.  He's  not  like  that." 

"I  guess  I'll  have  a  talk  with  him,"  said  Jim, 
and  he  turned  to  go. 

"Talk !"  she  cried. 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  heard  that 
sharp  note  in  her  voice.  Her  tiny  figure  was 
stiffened  with  decision.  Her  eyes  were  blazing. 

"If  you  ever  dare  to  speak  to  him — about  me, 
you'll  never  see  me  again." 

Jim  was  perplexed. 

"I  mean  it,  Jim.  I've  made  my  choice,  and  I've 
come  back  to  you.  If  you  ever  try  to  fix  up 
things  between  him  and  me,  I'll  run  away — really 
and  truly  away — and  you'll  never,  never  get  me 
back." 

He  shuffled  awkwardly  to  her  side  and  reached 
apologetically  for  the  little,  clenched  fist.  He 
held  it  in  his  big,  rough  hand,  toying  nervously 
with  the  tiny  fingers. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  159 

"I  wouldn't  do  nothin'  that  you  wasn't  a-wantin% 
Poll.  I  was  just  a  try  in'  to  help  yer,  only  I — I 
never  seem  to  know  how." 

She  turned  to  him  with  tear-dimmed  eyes,  and 
rested  her  hands  on  his  great,  broad  shoulders, 
and  he  saw  the  place  where  he  dwelt  in  her  heart. 


Chapter  XIV 

THE  "Leap  of  Death"  implements  were  being 
carried  from  the  ring,  and  Jim  turned  away  to 
superintend  their  loading. 

Performers  again  rushed  by  each  other  on  their 
way  to  and  from  the  main  tent. 

Polly  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  lot,  frowning 
and  anxious.  The  mere  mention  of  the  pastor's 
name  had  made  it  seem  impossible  for  her  to  ride 
to-night.  For  hours  she  had  been  whipping 
herself  up  to  the  point  of  doing  it,  and  now  her 
courage  failed  her.  She  followed  Barker  as  he 
came  from  the  ring. 

"Mr.  Barker,  please!" 

He  turned  upon  her  sharply. 

"Well,  what  is  it  now?" 

"I  want  to  ask  you  to  let  me  off  again  to- 
night." She  spoke  in  a  short,  jerky,  desperate 
way. 

"What?"  he  shrieked.  "Not  go  into  the  ring, 
with  all  them  people  inside  what's  paid  their 
money  a-cause  they  knowed  yer?" 


Polly  of  the  Circus  161 

"That's  it,"  she  cried.     "I  can't  1    I  can't!" 

"Yer  gettin'  too  tony!"  Barker  sneered. 
"That's  the  trouble  with  you.  You  ain't  been 
good  for  nothin'  since  you  was  at  that  parson's 
house.  Yer  didn't  stay  there,  and  yer  no  use 
here.  First  thing  yer  know  yer'll  be  out  all 
'round." 

"Out?" 

"Sure.  Yer  don't  think  I'm  goin'  ter  head  my 
bill  with  a  'dead  one,'  do  you?" 

"I  am  not  a  'dead  one,'  "  she  answered,  ex- 
citedly. "I'm  the  best  rider  you've  had  since 
mother  died.  You've  said  so  yourself." 

'That  was  afore  yer  got  in  with  them  church 
cranks.  You  talk  about  yer  mother!  Why, 
she'd  be  ashamed  ter  own  yer." 

"She  wouldn't,"  cried  Polly.  Her  eyes'  were 
flashing,  her  face  was  scarlet.  The  pride  of 
hundreds  of  years  of  ancestry  was  quivering  with 
indignation.  "I  can  ride  as  well  as  I  ever  could, 
and  I'll  do  it,  too.  I'll  do  it  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow?"  echoed  Barker.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  that?" 

"I  mean  that  I  can't  go  into  that  ring  to- 
night," she  declared,  "and  I  won't." 


162  Polly  of  the  Circus 

She  was  desperate  now,  and  trading  upon  a 
strength  beyond  her  own. 

He  looked  at  her  with  momentary  indecision. 
She  was  a  good  rider — the  best  since  her  mother, 
as  he  had  often  told  her.  He  could  see  this 
meant  an  issue.  He  felt  she  would  be  on  her 
mettle  to-morrow,  as  far  as  her  work  was  con- 
cerned, if  he  left  her  alone  to-night. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  sullenly.  "Yer  can  stay 
off  to-night.  I  got  the  crowd  in  there,  anyway, 
and  I  got  their  money.  I'll  let  Eloise  do  a  turn 
on  Barbarian,  but  to-morrow  you'd  better  show 
me  your  old  act." 

"I'll  show  you!"  she  cried.     "I'll  show  you!" 

"Well,  see  that  you  do."  He  crossed  into  the 
ring. 

Polly  stood  where  Barker  had  left  her,  white 
and  tense.  Jim  came  toward  her  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wagons.  He  glanced  at  her  uneasily. 
"What's  he  been  a-sayin'  ter  you?" 

"He  says  I  can't  ride  any  more."  Her  lips 
closed  tightly.  She  stared  straight  ahead  of  her. 
"He  says  I  was  no  good  to  the  people  that  took 
me  in,  and  I'm  no  use  here." 

"It's  not  so !"  thundered  Jim. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  163 

"No ;  it's  not !"  she  cried.  "I'll  show  him,  Jim ! 
I'll  show  him — to-morrow !"  She  turned  toward 
the  dressing  tent ;  Jim  caught  her  firmly  by  the 
wrist. 

"Wait,  Poll !  You  ain't  ever  goin'  into  the  ring 
a-feelin'  that  way."  Her  eyes  met  his,  defiantly. 

"What's  the  difference?  What's  the  differ- 
ence?" She  wrenched  her  wrist  quickly  from 
him,  and  ran  into  the  dressing  tent  laughing 
hysterically. 

"And  I  brung  her  back  to  it,"  mumbled  Jim  as 
he  turned  to  give  orders  to  the  property  men. 

Most  of  the  "first-half  props"  were  loaded,  and 
some  of  the  men  were  asleep  under  the  wagons. 
The  lot  was  clear.  Suddenly  he  felt  some  one 
approaching  from  the  back  of  the  enclosure. 
He  turned  and  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
the  stern,  solitary  figure  of  the  pastor,  wrapped 
in  his  long,  black  cloak.  The  moonlight  slipped 
through  a  rift  in  the  clouds,  and  fell  in  a  circle 
around  them. 

"What  made  you  come  here  ?"  was  all  Jim  said. 

"I  heard  that  Miss  Polly  didn't  ride  to-day.  I 
was  afraid  she  might  be  ill." 

"What's  that  to  you?" 


164  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"She  isn't  ill?"  Douglas  demanded  anxiously, 
oblivious  to  the  gruffness  in  the  big  fellow's  voice. 

"She's  all  right,"  Jim  answered  shortly  as  he 
shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and 
avoided  the  pastor's  burning  gaze. 

"And  she's  happy?  she's  content?" 

"Sure." 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Douglas,  dully.  He  tried  to 
think  of  some  way  to  prolong  their  talk.  "I've 
never  heard  from  her,  you  know." 

"Us  folks  don't  get  much  time  to  write."  Jim 
turned  away  and  began  tinkering  with  one  of 
the  wagons. 

Douglas  had  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of 
the  tents  again  and  again,  fighting  against  P 
desire  to  do  the  very  thing  that  he  was  doing.- 
but  to  no  purpose,  and  now  that  he  was  here, 
it  seemed  impossible  that  he  should  go  away  so 
unsatisfied.  He  crossed  to  Jim  and  came  de- 
terminedly to  the  point. 

"Can't  I  see  her,  Jim?" 

"It's  agin  the  rules."     He  did  not  turn. 

There  was  another  pause,  then  Douglas  started 
slowly  out  of  the  lot. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  called  Jim,  as  though  the 


Polly  of  the  Circus  165 

words  had  been  wrung  from  him.  The  pastor 
came  back  with  a  question  in  his  eyes. 

"I  lied  to  you." 

"She's  not  well,  then?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she's  well  enough.  It  ain't  that ;  it's 
about  her  being  happy." 

"She  isn't?"  There  was  a  note  of  unconscious 
exultation  in  his  voice. 

"No.  She  ain't  happy  here,  and  she  was  happy 
Kith  you" 

"Then,  why  did  she  leave  me?" 

"I  don't  know.  She  wasn't  goin'  ter  do  it  at 
first.  Somethin'  must  a-happened  afterwards, 
somethin'  that  you  an'  me  didn't  know  about." 

"We  will  know  about  it,  Jim.  Where  is  she?" 
His  quick  63^6  searched  the  lot.  His  voice  had 

regained  it's  old  command.    He  felt  that  he  could 

'« 
conquer  worlds. 

"You  can't  do  no  good  that  way,"  answered 
Jim.  "She  don't  want  ter  see  you  again." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  she  told  me  she'd  run  away 
if  I  ever  even  talked  to  you  about  her." 

"You  needn't  talk,  Jim;  I'll  talk  for  myself. 
Where  is  she?" 


166  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"She'll  be  comin'  out  soon.  You  can  wait 
around  out  here  with  me.  I'll  let  you  know  in 
time."  He  led  the  way  through  a  narrow  pas- 
sage between  the  wagons. 

Jim  and  Douglas  had  barely  left  the  lot  when 
Deacon  Elverson's  small,  round  head  slipped 
cautiously  around  the  corner  of  the  dressing 
tent.  The  little  deacon  glanced  exultantly 
about  him.  He  was  monarch  of  all  he  sur- 
veyed. It  was  very  thrilling  to  stand  here, 
on  this  forbidden  ground,  smelling  the  saw- 
dust, gazing  at  the  big  red  wagons,  study- 
ing the  unprotected  circus  properties,  and 
listening  to  the  lightening  tempo  of  the 
band. 

"Did  you  see  him?"  shouted  Strong,  who  had 
followed  closely  upon  Elverson's  heels. 

The  little  deacon  started.  Strong  was  cer- 
tainly a  disturbing  factor  at  times. 

"Yes,  I— I  saw  him." 

"Well?" 

"He— he— didn't  see  her." 

"What  did  he  do?"  Strong  was  beside  himself 
with  impatience. 

"He — he  just  talked  to  the  big  'un,  and  went 


Polly  of  the  Circus  167 

out  that  way."  Elverson  nodded  toward  the 
wagons. 

"I  guess  he  ain't  gone  far,"  sneered  Strong. 
"He  come  over  to  this  lot  to  see  her,  and  he  ain't 
goin'  ter  give  up  till  he  does  it.  You  wait  here ; 
I'll  take  a  look  round."  He  went  quickly  in  the 
direction  of  the  wagons. 

Elverson  needed  no  second  invitation  to  wait. 
He  was  congratulating  himself  upon  his  good 
fortune,  when  he  all  but  collided  with  a  flying 
apparition,  vanishing  in  the  direction  of  the 
main  tent.  Sophisticated  eyes  would  have 
seen  only  a  rather  stout  acrobat  clad  in  pink 
tights ;  but  Elverson  was  not  sophisticated, 
and  he  teetered  after  the  flitting  angel, 
even  unto  the  forbidden  portals  of  the  "big 
top." 

He  was  peeping  through  the  curtains  which 
had  fallen  behind  her,  and  was  getting  his  first 
glimpse  of  the  great,  sawdust  world  beyond, 
when  one  of  the  clowns  dashed  from  the  dressing 
tent  on  his  way  to  the  ring. 

The  clown  was  late.  He  saw  the  limp  coat  tails 
of  the  deacon,  who  was  three-quarters  in  the 
tent.  Here  was  a  chance  to  make  a  funny  en- 


168  Polly  of  the  Circus 

trance.  Pie  grabbed  the  unsuspecting  little  man 
from  the  rear.  The  terrified  deacon  struck  out 
blindly  in  all  directions,  his  black  arms  and  legs 
moving  like  centipeds,  but  the  clown  held  him 
firmly  by  the  back  and  thrust  him,  head  fore- 
most, into  the  tent. 

Strong  returned  almost  immediately  from  his 
unsuccessful  search  for  the  pastor.  He  looked 
about  the  lot  for  Elverson. 

"He}',  there,  Elverson !"  he  called  lustily. 
There  was  no  response. 

"Now  where's  he  got  to,"  grumbled  Strong. 
He  disappeared  quickly  around  the  corner  of  the 
dressing  tent,  resolved  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout 
for  Douglas. 

Elverson  was  thrust  from  the  tent  soon  after, 
spitting  sawdust  and  much  discomfited  by  the 
laughing  performers  who  followed  him.  His 
knees  almost  gave  way  beneath  him  when  Barker 
came  out  of  the  ring,  snapping  his  long,  black 
whip. 

"Get  out  of  here,  you  bloke !"  roared  Barker, 
and  Elverson  "got." 

No  one  had  remembered  to  tell  the  groom  that 
Polly  was  not  to  ride  to-night.  So  Bingo  was 


Polly  of  the  Circus  169 

brought  out  as  usual,  when  their  "turn"  ap- 
proached. 

"Take  him  back,  Tom,"  Polly  called  from  the 
entrance,  when  she  learned  that  Bingo  was  wait- 
ing, "and  bring  Barbarian.  I'm  not  going  on 
to-night.  Eloise  is  going  to  ride  in  my  place." 

This  was  the  second  time  to-day  that  Bingo  had 
been  led  away  without  going  into  the  ring. 
Something  in  his  big,  wondering  eyes  made  Polly 
follow  him  and  apologise.  He  was  very  proud, 
was  Bingo,  and  very  conscientious.  He  felt  un- 
easy when  he  saw  the  other  horses  going  to  their 
work  without  him. 

"Never  mind,  Bingo,"  she  said,  patting  his 
great,  arched  neck,  "we'll  show  'em  to-morrow." 
He  rubbed  his  satiny  nose  against  her  cheek. 
"We'll  make  them  sit  up  again.  Barker  says 
our  act's  no  good — that  Pve  let  down.  But  it's 
not  your  fault,  Bingo.  I've  not  been  fair  to 
you.  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to-morrow.  You 
wait.  He'll  never  say  it  again,  Bingo !  Never 
again !"  She  watched  him  go  out  of  the  lot,  and 
laughed  a  little  as  he  nipped  the  attendant  on 
the  arm.  He  was  still  irritated  at  not  going  into 
the  ring. 


170  Polly  of  the  Circus 

Polly  had  nothing  more  to  do  to-night  except 
to  get  into  her  street  clothes.  The  wagons  would 
soon  be  moving  away.  For  a  moment  she  glanced 
at  the  dark  church  steeple,  then  she  turned  to 
go  inside  the  tent.  A  deep,  familiar  voice 
stopped  her. 

"Polly !" 

She  turned  quickly.  She  could  not  answer. 
Douglas  came  toward  her.  He  gazed  at  her  in 
amazement.  She  drew  her  cape  about  her  slightly 
clad  figure.  She  seemed  older  to  him,  more  un- 
approachable with  her  hair  heaped  high  and 
sparkling  with  jewels.  Her  bodice  of  satin  and 
lace  shimmered  through  the  opening  of  her  cape. 
The  moonlight  lent  mystery  and  indecision  to 
her  betinselled  attire.  The  band  was  playing  the 
andante  for  the  balancing  act. 

She  found  strength  at  last  to  open  her  lips,  but 
still  no  sound  came  from  them.  She  and  the 
pastor  looked  at  each  other  strangely,  like  spirits 
newly  met  from  far-apart  worlds.  She,  too. 
thought  her  companion  changed.  He  was  older, 
the  circles  beneath  his  eyes  were  deeper,  the  look 
in  their  depths  more  grave. 

"We  were  such  close  neighbours  to-day,  I — I 


Polly  of  the  Circus  171 

rather  thought  you'd  call,"  he  stammered.  He 
was  uncertain  what  he  was  saying — it  did  not 
matter — he  was  there  with  her. 

"When  you're  in  a  circus  there  isn't  much  time 
for  calling." 

"That's  why  I've  come  to  call  on  you."  They 
might  have  been  sheppherd  and  sheppherdess  on 
a  May-day  wooing,  for  the  halting  way  in  which 
their  words  came. 

"You're  all  right?"  he  went  on.  "You're 
happy?" 

"Yes,  very,"  she  said.  Her  eyes  were  down- 
cast. 

He  did  not  believe  her,  the  effort  in  her  voice, 
her  drawn,  white  face  belied  her  words.  How 
could  he  get  the  truth  from  her? 

"Jim  said  you  might  not  want  to  see 
me." 

She  started. 

"Has  Jim  been  talking  to  you?" 

"Yes,  but  I  didn't  let  him  stop  me,  for  you  told 
me  the  day  you  left  that  you'd  never  change — 
toward  me.  Have  you,  Poll?"  He  studied  her, 
anxiously. 

"Why,  no,  of  course  not,"  she  said,  evasively. 


172  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"And  you'll  be  quite  frank  when  I  ask  you 
something?" 

"Yes,  of  course."  She  was  growing  more  and 
more  uneasy.  She  glanced  about  for  a  way  of 
escape. 

"Why  did  you  leave  me  as  you  did?" 

"I  told  you  then."  She  tried  to  cross  toward 
the  dressing  tent. 

He  stepped  quickly  in  front  of  her. 

"You  aren't  answering  frankly,  and  you  aren't 
happy." 

She  was  growing  desperate.  She  felt  she  must 
get  away,  anywhere,  anywhere. 

He  seized  her  small  wrists  and  forced  her  to 
look  at  him. 

"And  /  am  not  happy  without  you,  and  I 
never,  never  can  be."  The  floodgates  were  open, 
his  eyes  were  aglow,  he  bent  toward  her 
eagerly. 

"Oh,  you  mustn't,"  she  begged.  "You 
mustn't" 

"You've  grown  so  close,"  he  cried.  "So  close !" 
She  struggled  to  be  free.  He  did  not  heed  her. 
"You  know — you  must  know  what  I  mean."  He 
drew  her  toward  him  and  forced  her  into  his 


Polly  of  the  Circus  173 

arms.  "You're  more  precious  to  me  than  all 
else  on  this  earth." 

For  the  first  time  he  saw  the  extreme  pallor  on 
i  her  face.  He  felt  her  growing  limp  and  lifeless 
in  his  arms.  A  doubt  crossed  his  mind.  "If  I 
am  wrong  in  thinking  you  feel  as  I  do,  if  you 
honestly  care  for  all  this,"  he  glanced  about  at 
the  tents,  "more  than  for  any  life  that  I  can  give 
you,  I  shan't  interfere.  You'll  be  going  on  your 
way  in  an  hour.  I'll  say  good-bye  and  God  bless 
you ;  but  if  you  do  care  for  me,  Polly,"  he 
was  pleading  now,  "if  you're  not  happy  here — • 
won't  you  come  back  to  me?  Won't  you, 
Polly?" 

She  dared  not  meet  his  eyes,  nor  yet  to  send 
him  away.  She  stood  irresolute.  The  voice  of 
Deacon  Strong  answered  for  her. 

"So !    You're  here,  are  you  ?" 

"Yes,  Deacon  Strong,  I'm  here,"  answered  the 
pastor,  as  he  turned  to  meet  the  accusing  eyes  of 
the  deacon,  who  had  come  quickly  from  behind 
the  dressing  tent. 

"As  for  you,  miss,"  continued  Strong,  with  an 
insolent  nod  toward  Polly,  "I  might  have  known 
how  you'd  keep  your  part  of  the  bargain." 


174  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Bargain?"  echoed  Douglas.  "What  bar- 
gain ?" 

"Oh,  please,  Deacon  Strong,  please.  I  didn't 
mean  to  see  him,  I  didn't,  truly."  She  hardly 
knew  what  she  was  saying. 

"What  bargain?"  demanded  Douglas  sternly. 

"She  told  me  that  you  and  her  wasn't  ever  goin' 
ter  see  each  other  agin,"  roared  Strong.  "If 
I'd  a-knowed  she  was  goin'  to  keep  on  with  this 
kind  o'  thing,  you  wouldn't  er  got  off  so  easy." 

"So!  That's  it!"  cried  Douglas.  It  was  all 
clear  to  him  now.  He  recalled  everything,  her 
hysterical  behaviour,  her  laughter,  her  tears.  "It 
was  you  who  drove  that  child  back  to  this."  He 
glanced  at  Polly.  The  narrow  shoulders  were 
bent  forward.  The  nervous  little  fingers  were 
clasping  and  unclasping  each  other.  Never  be- 
fore had  she  seemed  so  small  and  helpless. 

"Oh,  please,  Mr.  John,  please!  Don't  make 
him  any  worse!" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  he  demanded. 

"It  would  have  done  no  good,"  she  sobbed.  "Oh, 
why — why  won't  you  leave  me  alone?" 

"It  would  have  done  all  the  good  in  the  world. 
What  right  had  he  to  send  you  back  to  this?" 


Polly  of  the  Circus  175 

"I  had  every  right,"  said  Strong,  stubbornly. 

"What?"  cried  Douglas. 

"It  was  my  duty." 

"Your  duty  ?     Your  narrow-minded  bigotry !" 

"I  don't  allow  no  man  to  talk  to  me  like  that, 
not  even  my  parson." 

"I'm  not  your  parson  any  longer,"  declared 
Douglas.  He  faced  Strong  squarely.  He  was 
master  of  his  own  affairs  at  last.  Polly  clung  to 
him,  begging  and  beseeching. 

"Oh,  Mr.  John!    Mr.  John!" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  shouted  Strong. 

"I  mean  that  I  stayed  with  you  and  your  nar- 
row-minded congregation  before,  because  I  be- 
lieved you  needed  me.  But  now  this  girl  needs 
me  more.  She  needs  me  to  protect  her  from  just 
such  injustice  as  yours." 

"You'd  better  be  protectin'  yourself.  That's 
my  advice  to  you." 

"I  can  do  that  -without  your  advice." 

"Ma}rbe  you  can  find  another  church  with  that 
circus  ridin'  girl  a-hangin'  'round  your  neck." 

"He's  right,"  cried  Polly.  "You  couldn't." 
She  clung  to  the  pastor  in  terrified  entreaty. 
"You  couldn't  get  another  church.  They'd 


176  Polly  of  the  Circus 

never,  never  forgive  you.  It's  no  use.  You've 
got  to  let  me  go !  you've  got  to !" 

"Listen,  Polly."  He  drew  her  toward  him. 
"God  is  greater  than  any  church  or  creed. 
There's  work  to  be  done  everywhere — His  work." 

"You'll  soon  find  out  about  that,"  thundered 
Strong. 

"So  I  will,"  answered  Douglas,  with  his  head 
thrown  high.  "This  child  has  opened  a  new  world 
to  me;  she  has  shown  me  a  broader,  deeper  hu- 
manity ;  she  and  I  will  find  the  way  together." 

"It  won't  be  an  easy  one,  I'll  promise  you  that." 
Strong  turned  to  go. 

"I'm  not  looking  for  the  easy  way !"  Douglas 
called  after  him,  then  he  turned  to  draw  Polly's 
arm  within  his ;  but  Polly  had  slipped  from  his 
side  to  follow  the  deacon. 

"Oh,  please,  Deacon  Strong,  please !"  she 
pleaded.  "You  won't  go  away  like  that.  He'll 
be  all  right  if  you'll  only  wait.  I'm  not  coming 
back.  I'm  not — honestly.  I'm  going  on  with 
the  show,  to-night,  and  I'm  going  this  time 
forever" 

"You  are  going  to  stay  here  with  me,"  cried 
Douglas. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  177 

"No,  no,  Mr.  John.  I've  made  up  my  mind, 
and  I  won't  be  to  blame  for  your  unhappiness." 
She  faced  him  firmly  now.  "I  don't  belong  to 
your  world,  and  I  don't  want  to  try  any  more. 
I'm  what  he  called  me — I'm  a  circus  riding  girl. 
I  was  born  in  the  circus,  and  I'll  never  change. 
That's  my  work — riding,  and  it's  yours  to 
preach.  You  must  do  your  work,  and  I'll  do 
mine." 

She  started  toward  the  ring.  Eloise  and  Bar- 
barian were  already  waiting  at  the  entrance. 

"Eloise !"  She  took  one  step  toward  her,  then 
stopped  at  the  sound  of  Barker's  voice. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  called.  "Although 
we  are  obliged  to  announce  that  our  star  rider, 
Miss  Polly,  will  not  appear  to-night,  we  offer  you 
in  her  place  an  able  substitute,  Mademoiselle 
Eloise,  on  her  black,  untamed  horse,  Barbarian." 

Eloise  put  her  hands  on  the  horse's  back  to 
mount 

"No !  No !"  cried  Polly. 

The  other  girl  turned  in  astonishment  at  the 
agony  in  her  voice. 

"Polly !" 

"Wait,  Eloise !    I'm  going  to  ride !" 


178  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"You  can't,  not  Barbarian !  He  don't  know 
your  turn." 

"So  much  the  better!"  She  seized  the  bridle 
from  the  frightened  girl's  hand. 

"Polly!"  shouted  Douglas.  He  had  followed 
her  to  the  entrance. 

"I  must!    I  will!" 

She  flew  into  the  ring  before  he  could  stop  her. 
He  took  one  step  to  follow  her. 

"You'd  better  let  her  alone  and  get  out  o'  here," 
said  Strong.  His  voice  was  like  a  firebrand  to 
Douglas.  He  turned  upon  him,  white  with  rage. 

"You  drove  her  to  this."  His  fists  were 
clenched.  He  drew  back  to  strike. 

Jim  came  from  behind  the  wagons  just  in  time 
to  catch  the  uplifted  arm. 

"Leave  him  to  me,  this  ain't  no  parson's  job." 
The  pastor  lowered  his  arm,  but  kept  his  threat- 
ening eyes  on  the  deacon's  face. 

"Where's  Poll?"  asked  Jim. 

"In  there!  Douglas  pointed  toward  the  main 
tent  without  turning  his  head.  He  was  still  glar- 
ing at  the  deacon,  and  breathing  hard. 

"What?"  cried  Jim,  in  alarm.  He  faced  about 
and  saw  Eloise.  He  guessed  the  truth.  A  few 


Polly  of  the  Circus  179 

quick  strides  brought  him  to  the  entrance  cur- 
tains. He  threw  them  back  and  looked  into  the 
ring. 

"My  God!    Why  don't  Barker  stop  her?" 

"What  is  it?"  called  Douglas.  He  forgot  the 
deacon  in  his  terror  at  Jim's  behaviour,  and 
Strong  was  able  to  slip  away,  unnoticed. 

"She's  goin'  ter  ride !  She's  goin'  ter  ride  Bar- 
barian !" 

Douglas  crossed  to  his  side  and  looked. 

Polly  was  springing  onto  the  back  of  Bar- 
barian. He  was  a  poorly  trained  horse,  used  by 
the  other  girl  for  more  showy,  but  less  dangerous 
feats  than  Polly's. 

"She's  goin'  through  her  regular  turn  with 
him;  she's  tryin'  ter  break  her  neck,"  said  Jim. 
"She  wants  ter  do  it.  It's  your  fault !"  he  cried, 
turning  upon  Douglas  with  bloodshot  eyes. 
He  was  half  insane,  he  cared  little  whom 
he  wounded. 

"Why  can't  we  stop  her?"  cried  Douglas,  un- 
able to  endure  the  strain.  He  took  one  step  in- 
side the  entrance. 

"No,  no;  not  that!"  Jim  dragged  him  back 
roughly.  "If  she  sees  you  now,  it  will  be  the 


180  Polly  of  the  Circus 

end."  They  watched  in  silence.  "She's  over  the 
first  part,"  Jim  whispered,  at  last. 

Douglas  drew  back,  his  muscles  tense,  as  he 
watched  the  scene  inside  the  ring.  Eloise  stood 
at  the  pastor's  side,  horror-stricken  at  Polly's 
reckless  behaviour.  She  knew  Barbarian.  It 
was  easy  to  guess  the  end. 

"She's  comin'  to  the  hoops,"  Jim  whispered, 
hoarsely. 

"Barbarian  don't  know  that  part,  I  never 
trained  him,"  the  other  girl  said. 

Polly  made  the  first  leap  toward  the  hoops.  The 
horse  was  not  at  fault ;  it  was  Polly.  She 
plunged  wildly,  the  audience  started.  She  caught 
her  footing  with  an  effort.  One,  two,  three  hoops 
were  passed.  She  threw  herself  across  the  back 
of  the  horse  and  hung,  head  downward,  as  he 
galloped  around  the  ring.  The  band  was  play- 
ing loudly,  the  people  were  cheering.  She  rose 
to  meet  the  last  two  hoops. 

"She's  swayin',"  Jim  shrieked  in  agony.  "She's 
goin'  to  fall.  He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Polly  reeled  and  fell  at  the  horse's  side.  She 
mounted  and  fell  again.  She  rose  and  staggered 
in  pursuit. 


Polly  of  the  Circus  181 

"I  can't  bear  it,"  groaned  Douglas.  He  rushed 
into  the  ring,  unconscious  of  the  thousands  of 
eyes  bent  upon  his  black,  ministerial  garb,  and 
caught  the  slip  of  a  girl  in  his  arms  just  as  she 
was  about  to  sink  fainting  beneath  the  horse's 
hoofs. 

Barker  brought  the  performance  to  a  halt  with 
a  crack  of  his  whip.  The  audience  stood  on  tip- 
toe. White-faced  clowns  and  gaily  attired  acro- 
bats crowded  around  Polly  and  the  pastor. 

Douglas  did  not  see  them.  He  had  come  into 
his  own. 

"He's  bringin'  her  out,"  whispered  Eloise,  who 
still  watched  at  the  entrance.  Jim  dared  not 
look  up,  his  head  was  still  in  his  hands. 

"Is  it  over?"  he  groaned. 

"I  don't  know.  I  can't  tell  yet."  She  stepped 
aside  as  Douglas  came  out  of  the  tent,  followed 
by  a  swarm  of  performers.  He  knelt  on  the  soft 
grass  and  rested  Polly's  head  upon  his  knee.  The 
others  pressed  about  them.  It  seemed  to  Douglas 
that  he  waited  hours ;  then  her  white  lids  quivered 
and  opened  and  the  colour  crept  back  to  her 
lips. 

"It's  all  right,  Jim !"  called  one  of  the  men  from 


182  Polly  of  the  Circus 

the  crowd.  "She's  only  fainted."  The  big  fel- 
low had  waited  in  his  tracks  for  the  verdict. 

Polly's  eyes  looked  up  into  those  of  the  parson 
— a  thrill  shot  through  his  veins. 

"It  was  no  use,  was  it?"  She  shook  her  head 
with  a  sad  little  smile.  He  knew  that  she 
was  thinking  of  her  failure  to  get  out  of  his 
way. 

"That's  because  I  need  you  so  much,  Polly,  that 
God  won't  let  you  go  away  from  me."  He  drew 
her  nearer  to  him,  and  the  warm  blood  that  shot 
to  her  cheeks  brought  back  her  strength.  She 
rose  unsteadily,  and  looked  about  her.  Jim  came 
toward  her,  white  and  trembling. 

"All  right,  Poll?" 

"Oh,  Muvver  Jim !"  She  threw  herself  into  his 
arms  and  clung  to  him,  sobbing  weakly. 

No  one  could  ever  remember  just  how  the  audi- 
ence left  the  big  top  that  night,  and  even  Barker 
had  no  clear  idea  of  how  Jim  took  down  the  tents, 
loaded  the  great  wagons,  and  sent  the  caravan 
on  its  way. 

When  the  last  wagon  was  beginning  to  climb 
the  long,  winding  road  of  the  moon-lit  hill,  Jim 
turned  to  Polly,  who  stood  near  the  side  of  the 


"Whither  thou  gocst,  will  I  go,  where  thou 
diest,  will  I  die." 


Polly  of  the  Circus  183 

deserted  ring.  His  eyes  travelled  from  her  to 
the  parson,  who  waited  near  her.  She  was  in  her 
street  clothes  now,  the  little  brown  Quakerish 
dress  which  she  had  chosen  to  wear  so  much  since 
her  return  from  the  parsonage. 

"I  guess  I  won't  be  makin'  no  mistake  this 
time,"  he  said,  and  he  placed  her  hand  in  that  of 
the  parson. 

"Good-bye,  Muvver  Jim,"  faltered  Polly. 

He  stooped  and  touched  her  forehead  with  his 
lips.  A  mother's  spirit  breathed  through  his 
kiss. 

"I'm  glad  it's  like  this,"  he  said,  then  turned 
away  and  followed  the  long,  dotted  line  of 
winding  lights  disappearing  slowly  over  the 
hill. 

Her  eyes  travelled  after  him. 

Douglas  touched  the  cold,  little  hand  at  her  side. 

"I  belong  with  them,"  she  said,  still  gazing 
after  Jim  and  the  wagons. 

"You  belong  with  me,"  he  answered  in  a  firm, 
grave  voice,  and  something  in  the  deep,  sure  tones 
told  her  that  he  was  speaking  the  truth.  She 
lifted  one  trembling  hand  to  his  shoulder,  and 
looked  up  into  his  face. 


184  Polly  of  the  Circus 

"Whither  thou  goest,  will  I  go,  where  thou 
diest,  will  I  die." 

He  drew  her  into  his  arms. 

"The  Lord  do  so  to  me  and  more  also,  if  aught 
but  death  part  thee  and  me." 

THE  END 


BABY    MINE 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

Published,  October,  1911 


To  my  Helper  and  Husband 


CHAPTER     I 

EVEN  in  college  Alfred  Hardy  was  a  young 
man  of  fixed  ideas  and  high  ideals  and  proud  of  it. 

His  friend,  Jimmy  Jinks,  had  few  ideas  and  no 
ideals,  and  was  glad  of  it,  and  before  half  of  their 
first  college  term  had  passed,  Jimmy  had  ridded 
himself  of  all  such  worries  as  making  up  his  own 
mind  or  directing  his  own  morals.  Alfred  did  all 
these  things  so  much  better,  argued  Jimmy,  fur- 
thermore, Alfred  liked  to  do  them — Jimmy  owed 
it  to  his  friend  to  give  him  that  pleasure. 

The  fact  that  Jimmy  was  several  years  Alfred's 
senior  and  twice  his  size,  in  no  way  altered  his 
opinion  of  Alfred's  judgment,  and  through  their 
entire  college  course  they  agreed  as  one  man  in 
all  their  discussions — or  rather — in  all  Alfred's 
discussions. 

But  it  was  not  until  the  close  of  their  senior 
year  that  Alfred  favoured  Jimmy  with  his  views 
on  matrimony. 

Sitting  alone  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  cam- 
pus waiting  for  Alfred  to  solve  a  problem  in 
higher  mathematics,  Jimmy  now  recalled  frag- 
ments of  Alfred's  last  conversation. 

"  No  twelve  dollar  shoes  and  forty  doPar  hats 
for  my  wife,"  his  young  friend  had  raged  and  he 

1 


2  Baby    Mine 

condemned  to  Jimmy  the  wicked  extravagance  of 
his  own  younger  sisters.  "  The  woman  who  gets 
me  must  be  a  home-maker.  I'll  take  her  to  the 
theatre  occasionally,  and  now  and  then  we'll  have 
a  few  friends  in  for  the  evening;  but  the  fireside 
must  be  her  magnet,  and  I'll  be  right  by  her  side 
each  night  with  my  books  and  my  day's  worries. 
She  shall  be  taken  into  my  confidence  completely ; 
and  I'll  take  good  care  to  let  her  know,  before  I 
marry  her,  just  what  I  expect  in  return." 

"  Alfred  certainly  has  the  right  idea  about 
marriage,"  mused  Jimmy,  as  the  toe  of  his  boot 
shoved  the  gravel  up  and  down  the  path. 
"  There's  just  one  impractical  feature  about  it." 
He  was  conscious  of  a  slight  feeling  of  heresy 
when  he  admitted  even  one  flaw  in  his  friend's 
scheme  of  things.  "  Where  is  Alfred  to  find  such 
a  wife?  " 

Jimmy  ran  through  the  list  of  unattached  girls 
to  whom  Alfred  had  thus  far  presented  him.  It 
was  no  doubt  due  to  his  lack  of  imagination,  but 
try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  see  any  one  of  these 
girls  sitting  by  the  fireside  listening  to  Alfred's 
"  worries  "  for  four  or  five  nights  each  week.  He 
recalled  all  the  married  women  whom  he  had  been 
obliged,  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  to  observe. 

True,  all  of  them  did  not  boast  twelve  dollar 
shoes  or  forty  dollar  hats — for  the  very  simple 
reason  that  the  incomes  or  the  tempers  of  their 
husbands  did  not  permit  of  it.  In  any  case,  Jimmy 


Baby    Mine  3 

did  not  remember  having  seen  them  spend  many 
evenings  by  the  fireside.  Where  then  was  Alfred 
to  find  the  exceptional  creature  who  was  to  help 
"  systematise  his  life  "?  Jimmy  was  not  above 
hoping  that  Alfred's  search  might  be  a  long  one. 
He  was  content  for  his  friend  to  go  jogging  along 
by  his  side,  theorising  about  marriage  and  talcing 
no  chances  with  facts.  Having  come  to  this  con- 
clusion, he  began  to  feel  uneasy  at  Alfred's  non- 
appearance.  Alfred  had  promised  to  meet  him 
on  this  spot  at  four-thirty,  and  Alfred  had  de- 
cided ideas  about  punctuality.  It  was  now  five- 
thirty.  Ought  Jimmy  to  look  for  him,  or  would 
he  be  wiser  to  remain  comfortably  seated  and  to 
try  to  digest  another  of  his  friend's  theories? 

While  Jimmy  was  trying  to  decide  this  vexed 
question,  his  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a  girlish 
titter.  Turning  in  embarrassment  toward  a  se- 
cluded path  just  behind  him,  whom  did  he  see 
coming  toward  him  but  Alfred,  with  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  bunch  of  daffodils ;  but  as  Alfred 
drew  nearer,  Jimmy  began  to  perceive  at  his  elbow 
a  large  flower-trimmed  hat,  and — "  horrors !  " — 
beneath  it,  with  a  great  deal  of  filmy  white  and 
yellow  floating  from  it,  was  a  small  pink  and  white 
face. 

Barely  had  Jimmy  reversed  himself  and  rear- 
ranged his  round,  astonished  features,  when  Al- 
fred, beaming  and  buoyant,  brought  the  bundle  of 
fluff  to  a  full  stop  before  him. 


4  Baby   Mine 

"  Sorry  to  be  late,  old  chap,"  said  Alfred.  "  I 
have  brought  my  excuse  with  me.  I  want  you 
to  know  Miss  Merton."  Then  turning  to  the 
small  creature,  whose  head  peeped  just  above  his 
elbow,  Alfred  explained  to  her  graciously  that 
Jimmy  Jinks  was  his  very  best  friend,  present 
company  excepted,  of  course,  and  added  that 
she  and  Jimmy  would  no  doubt  "  see  a  great  deal 
of  each  other  in  the  future." 

In  his  embarrassment,  Jimmy's  eyes  went 
straight  to  the  young  lady's  shoes.  It  was  pos- 
sible that  there  might  be  more  expensive  shoes  in 
this  world,  but  Jimmy  had  certainly  never  seen 
daintier. 

"  I  hope  we  didn't  disturb  you,"  a  small  voice 
was  chirping;  and  innocent  and  conventional  as 
the  remark  surely  was,  Jimmy  was  certain  of  an 
undercurrent  of  mischief  in  it.  He  glanced  up  to 
protest,  but  two  baby-blue  eyes  fixed  upon  him  in 
apparent  wonderment,  made  him  certain  that  any- 
thing he  could  say  would  seem  rude  or  ridiculous ; 
so,  as  usual  when  in  a  plight,  he  looked  to  Alfred 
for  the  answer. 

Slapping  Jimmy  upon  the  shoulder  in  a  conde- 
scending spirit,  Alfred  suggested  that  they  all  sit 
down  and  have  a  chat. 

"  Oh,  how  nice,"  chirped  the  small  person. 

Jimmy  felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  run,  but 
the  picture  of  himself,  in  his  very  stout  person, 
streaking  across  the  campus  to  the  giggled  de- 


Baby   Mine  5 

light  of  Miss  Fluff,  soon  brought  him  submissively 
to  the  seat,  where  he  sat  twiddling  his  straw  hat 
between  his  fingers,  and  glancing  uncertainty  at 
Alfred,  who  was  thoughtful  enough  to  sit  next 
him. 

"  Goodness,  one  could  almost  dance  out  here, 
couldn't  one?  "  said  the  small  person,  named  Zoie, 
as  her  eyes  roved  over  the  bit  of  level  green  before 
them. 

"  Would  you  like  to  try?  "  asked  Alfred,  ap- 
parently agreeable  to  her  every  caprice. 

"  I'd  love  it !"  cried  Zoie.  "  Come  along."  She 
sprang  up  and  held  out  her  hands  to  him. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  unselfish,"  answered  Alfred, 
"  and  let  Jimmy  have  that  fun." 

By  this  time,  Jimmy  had  been  seized  with  an 
intuitive  feeling  that  his  friend  was  in  immediate 
danger. 

"  Was  this  the  young  woman  who  was  to  sit 
opposite  the  fireside  five  nights  a  week  and  syste- 
matise Alfred's  life?  " 

Jimmy  stared  at  the  intruder  blankly.  For 
answer,  two  small  hands  were  thrust  out  to- 
ward him  and  an  impatient  little  voice  was  com- 
manding him  to  "  Come,  dance."  He  heard  Al- 
fred's laughter.  He  had  no  intention  of  accom- 
modating the  small  person  in  this  or  any  other 
matter,  yet,  before  he  realised  quite  how  it  had 
happened,  he  was  two-stepping  up  and  down  the 
grass  to  her  piping  little  voice;  nor  did  she  re- 


6  Baby    Mine 

lease  him  until  the  perspiration  came  rolling  from 
his  forehead;  and,  horror  of  horrors,  his  one-time 
friend,  Alfred,  seemed  to  find  this  amusing,  and 
laughed  louder  and  louder  when  Jimmy  sank  by 
his  side  exhausted. 

When  Jimmy  was  again  able  to  think  consecu- 
tively, he  concluded  that  considerable  conversa- 
tion must  have  taken  place  between  Alfred  and  the 
small  one,  while  he  was  recovering  his  breath  and 
re-adjusting  his  wilted  neckwear.  He  was  now 
thrown  into  a  fresh  panic  by  an  exclamation  from 
the  excitable  Zoie. 

"  You  must  both  meet  my  friend,  Aggie  Dar- 
ling," she  was  saying.  "  I  am  bringing  her  with 
me  to  the  hop  to-night.  She  is  not  at  all  like  me. 
You  will  like  her  dreadfully."  She  smiled  at 
Jimmy  as  though  she  were  conferring  a  great  fa- 
vour upon  him. 

"  Like  her  dreadfully,"  commented  Jimmy 
to  himself.  "It  was  just  the  kind  of  expression 
one  might  expect  from  a  mind  in  such  dis- 
order as  hers.  *  Systematise  Alfred's  life,'  in- 
deed!" 

There  was  more  nonsensical  chatter,  or  so  it 
seemed  to  Jimmy,  then  Zoie  and  Alfred  rose  to  go, 
and  Jimmy  was  told  by  both  of  them  that  he  was 
to  put  in  an  appearance  at  the  Fraternity  "  hop  " 
that  night. 

"  I'll  see  you  at  dinner,"  called  Alfred  gaily  over 
.his  shoulder  and  Jimmy  was  left  to  grapple  with 


Baby    Mine  7 

his   first  disappointment  at  his   friend's  lack  of 
discrimination. 

"  It's  her  fault,"  concluded  Jimmy,  as  he  lifted 
himself  heavily  off  the  bench  and  started  down  the 
campus,  resolved  to  console  himself  with  food. 


CHAPTER    II 

Now  Jimmy  had  no  intention  of  going  to  the 
"  hop."  He  had  tried  to  tell  Alfred  so  a  dozen 
times  during  dinner,  but  each  time  he  had  been 
interrupted  by  one  of  Alfred's  enthusiastic  rhap- 
sodies about  Zoie. 

"  Most  marvellous  girl  I  have  ever  met !  "  ex- 
claimed Alfred  over  his  soup.  "  So  sensible ;  so 
modest.  And  did  you  see  how  simply  she 
dresses?"  he  asked.  Jimmy  recalled  his  jfirst 
vision  of  billowy  fluff;  but  before  he  could  answer, 
Alfred  had  continued  excitedly: 

"  I'll  tell  }rou  what  first  attracted  me  toward 
her."  He  looked  at  Jimmy  as  though  he  expected 
some  especial  mark  of  gratitude  for  the  favour 
about  to  be  bestowed;  then  he  explained  with  a 
serious  weighing  of  his  words,  "  It  was  her  love  of 
children.  I  had  barely  been  introduced  to  her 
when  she  turned  her  back  upon  me  and  gave  her 
whole  attention  to  Professor  Peck's  little  boy 
Willie.  I  said  to  myself,  *  any  girl  of  that  age 
who  prefers  children  to  young  chaps  of  my  age, 
is  the  girl  for  me.' ' 

"  I  see,"  assented  Jimmy  lamely.  It  was  his 
first  remark  during  dinner. 


Baby   Mine  9 

"  After  that,  I  no  longer  hesitated.  You  know, 
Jimmy,  I  have  decision." 

"  Yes,  I  have  noticed,"  admitted  Jimmy,  with- 
out conviction. 

"  In  fifteen  minutes,"  said  Alfred,  "  I  had 
learned  all  about  the  young  lady's  antecedents." 

Having  finished  his  soup,  and  resisted  a  child- 
ish impulse  to  tip  the  plate  and  scrape  the  bot- 
tom of  it,  Jimmy  was  now  looking  anxiously  to- 
ward the  door  through  which  the  roast  ought  to 
come. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  her,"  volunteered  Al- 
fred. But  Jimmy's  eyes  were  upon  Alfred's  plate ; 
his  friend  had  not  yet  devoured  more  than  two 
spoonfuls  of  soup;  at  that  rate,  argued  Jimmy, 
the  roast  would  reach  them  about  the  time  that 
he  was  usually  trying  to  make  his  dessert  last  as 
long  as  possible. 

"  She  is  here  with  her  aunt,"  continued  Alfred. 
"  They  are  on  a  short  visit  to  Professor  Peck." 

Jimmy  approved  of  the  "  short." 

"  That's  good,"  he  murmured,  hopeful  that  a 
separation  from  the  minx  night  restore  his 
friend's  reason. 

"  And  Jimmy,"  exclaimed  Alfred  with  glisten- 
ing eyes,  "  what  do  you  think?  " 

Jimmy  thought  a  great  deal  but  he  forebore 
to  say  it,  and  Alfred  continued  very  enthusias- 
tically. 

"  She  lives  right  in  the  same  town  with  us." 


10  Baby   Mine 

"What!"  ejaculated  Jimmy,  and  he  felt  his 
appetite  going. 

"  Within  a  stone's  throw  of  my  house — and 
yours,"  added  Alfred  triumphantly.  "  Think  of 
our  never  having  met  her  before !  " 

'*  I  am  thinking,"  said  Jimmy. 

"  Of  course  she  has  been  away  from  home  a 
great  deal,"  went  on  Alfred.  "  She's  been  in 
school  in  the  East;  but  there  were  the  summers." 

"  So  there  were,"  assented  Jimmy,  thinking  of 
his  hitherto  narrow  escapes. 

"  Her  father  is  old  John  Merton,"  continued 
Alfred.  "  Merton  the  stationer — you  know  him, 
Jimmy.  Unfortunately,  he  has  a  great  deal  of 
money ;  but  that  hasn't  spoilt  her.  Oh  no  !  She 
is  just  as  simple  and  considerate  in  her  behaviour 
as  if  she  were  some  poor  little  struggling  school 
teacher.  She  is  the  one  for  me,  Jimmy.  There  is 
no  doubt  about  it,  and  I'll  tell  you  a  secret." 

Jimmy  looked  at  him  blankly. 

"  I  am  going  to  propose  to  her  this  very  night." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  grqaned  Jimmy,  as  if  his  friend 
had  been  suddenly  struck  down  in  the  flower  of 
his  youth. 

"  That's  why  you  simply  must  come  with  me 
to  the  hop,"  continued  Alfred.  "  I  want  you  to 
take  care  of  her  friend  Aggie,  and  leave  me  alone 
with  Zoie  as  much  as  possible." 

"  Zoie !  "  sniffed  Jimmy.  The  name  to  him  was 
as  flippant  as  its  owner. 


Baby    Mine  11 

"  True,  strong  name,"  commented  Alfred. 
"  So  simple,  so  direct,  so  like  her.  I'll  have  to 
leave  you  now,"  he  said,  rising.  "  I  must  send  her 
some  flowers  for  the  dance."  He  turned  at  the 
door.  Suppose  I  add  a  few  from  you  for  Aggie." 

"  What !  "  exploded  Jimmy. 

"  Just  by  way  of  introduction,"  called  Alfred 
gaily.  "  It's  a  good  idea." 

Before  Jimmy  could  protest  further,  he  found 
himself  alone  for  the  second  time  that  day.  He 
ate  his  roast  in  gloomy  silence.  It  seemed  dry 
and  tasteless.  Even  his  favourite  desert  of  plum 
pudding  failed  to  rouse  him  from  his  dark  medita- 
tions, and  he  rose  from  the  table  dejected  and  for- 
lorn. 

A  few  hours  later,  when  Alfred  led  Jimmy  into 
the  ballroom,  the  latter  was  depressed,  not  only  by 
his  friend's  impending  danger,  but  he  felt  an 
uneasy  foreboding  as  to  his  own  future.  With 
his  college  course  practically  finished  and  Alfred 
attaching  himself  to  unforeseen  entities,  Jimmy 
had  come  to  the  ball  with  a  curious  feeling  of  hav- 
ing been  left  suspended  in  mid-air. 

Before  he  could  voice  his  misgivings  to  Alfred, 
the  young  men  were  surrounded  by  a  circle  of 
chattering  females.  And  then  it  was  that  Jimmy 
found  himself  looking  into  a  pair  of  level  brown 
eyes,  and  felt  himself  growing  hot  and  cold  by 
turns.  When  the  little  knot  of  youths  and  maid- 
ens disentangled  itself  into  pairs  of  dancers,  it 


12  Baby   Mine 

became  clear  to  Jimmy  that  he  had  been  intro- 
duced to  Aggie,  and  that  he  was  expected  to  dance 
with  her. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Jimmy  had  danced  with 
many  girls ;  true,  it  was  usually  when  there  was 
no  other  man  left  to  "  do  duty  ";  but  still  he  had 
done  it.  Why  then  should  he  feel  such  distressing 
hesitation  about  placing  his  arm  around  the  waist 
of  this  brown-eyed  Diana?  Try  as  he  would  he 
could  not  find  words  to  break  the  silence  that  had 
fallen  between  them.  She  was  so  imposing; 
so  self-controlled.  It  really  seemed  to  Jimmy 
that  she  should  be  the  one  to  ask  him  to 
dance.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  that  was  just  what 
happened ;  and  after  the  dance  she  suggested  that 
they  sit  in  the  garden ;  and  in  the  garden,  with  the 
moonlight  barely  peeping  through  the  friendly 
overhanging  boughs  of  the  trees,  Jimmy  found 
Aggie  capable  of  a  courage  that  filled  him  with 
amazement;  and  later  that  night,  when  he  and 
Alfred  exchanged  confidences,  it  became  apparent 
to  the  latter  that  Aggie  had  volunteered  to  under- 
take the  responsibility  of  outlining  Jimmy's  en- 
tire future. 

He  was  to  follow  his  father's  wishes  and  take 
up  a  business  career  in  Chicago  at  once;  and  as 
soon  as  all  the  relatives  concerned  on  both  sides 
had  been  duly  consulted,  he  and  Aggie  were  to 
embark  upon  matrimony. 


Baby    Mine  13 

"Good!"  cried  Alfred,  when  Jimmy  had  man- 
aged to  stammer  his  shame-faced  confession. 
"  We'll  make  it  a  double  wedding.  I  can  be  ready 
to-morrow,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned."  And  then 
followed  another  rhapsody  upon  the  fitness  of 
Zoie  as  the  keeper  of  his  future  home  and  hearth, 
and  the  mother  of  his  future  sons  and  daughters. 
In  fact,  it  was  far  into  the  night  when  the  two 
friends  separated — separated  in  more  than  one 
sense,  as  they  afterward  learned. 

While  Alfred  and  Jimmy  were  saying  "  good- 
night "  to  each  other,  Zoie  and  Aggie  in  one  of 
the  pretty  chintz  bedrooms  of  Professor  Peck's 
modest  home,  were  still  exchanging  mutual  con- 
fidences. 

"The  thing  I  like  about  Alfred,"  said  Zoie, 
as  she  gazed  at  the  tip  of  her  dainty  satin 
slipper,  and  turned  her  head  meditatively  to  one 
side,  "  is  his  positive  nature.  I've  never  before 
met  any  one  like  him.  Do  you  know,"  she  added 
with  a  sly  twinkle  in  her  eye,  "  it  was  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  from  laughing  at  him.  He's  so 
awfully  serious."  She  giggled  to  herself  at  the 
recollection  of  him;  then  she  leaned  forward  to 
Aggie,  her  small  hands  clasped  across  her  knees 
and  her  face  dimpling  with  mischief.  "  He  hasn't 
the  remotest  idea  what  I'm  like." 

Aggie  studied  her  young  friend  with  unmistak- 
able reproach.  "  I  made  Jimmy  know  what  Fm 


14  Baby   Mine 

like,"  she  said.  "  I  told  him  all  my  ideas  about 
everything." 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Zoie  in  shocked 
surprise. 

"  He's  sure  to  find  out  sooner  or  later,"  said 
Aggie  sagely.  "  I  think  that's  the  only  sensible 
way  to  begin." 

"  If  I'd  told  Alfred  all  my  ideas  about  things," 
smiled  Zoie,  "  there'd  have  been  no  beginning." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Aggie,  with  a 
troubled  look. 

"  Well,  take  our  meeting,"  explained  Zoie. 
"  Just  as  we  were  introduced,  that  horrid  little 
Willie  Peck  caught  his  heel  in  a  flounce  of  my 
skirt.  I  turned  round  to  slap  him,  but  I  saw 
Alfred  looking,  so  I  patted  his  ugly  little  red 
curls  instead.  And  what  do  you  think?  Alfred 
told  me  to-night  that  it  was  my  devotion  to 
Willie  that  first  made  him  adore  me." 

"  And  you  didn't  explain  to  him  ?  "  asked  Aggie 
in  amazement. 

"  And  lose  him  before  I'd  got  him !  "  exclaimed 
Zoie. 

"  It  might  be  better  than  losing  him  after 
you've  got  him,"  concluded  the  elder  girl. 

"  Oh,  Aggie,"  pouted  Zoie,  "  I  think  you  are 
horrid.  You're  just  trying  to  spoil  all  the  fun  of 
my  engagement." 

"  I  am  not,"  cried  Aggie,  and  the  next  moment 
she  was  sitting  on  the  arm  of  Zoie's  chair. 


Baby    Mine  15 

"  Goose  I  "  she  said,  "  how  dare  you  be  cross  with 
me?" 

"  I  am  not  cross,"  declared  Zoie,  and  after  the 
customary  apologies  from  Aggie,  confidence  was 
fully  restored  on  both  sides  and  Zoie  continued 
gaily:  "Don't  you  worry  about  Alfred  and  me," 
she  said  as  she  kicked  off  her  tiny  slippers  and 
hopped  into  bed.  "  Just  you  wait  until  I  get 
him.  I'll  manage  him  all  right." 

"I  dare  say,"  answered  Aggie;  not  without 
misgivings,  as  she  turned  off  the  light. 


CHAPTER     III 

THE  double  wedding  of  four  of  Chicago's 
"  Younger  Set  "  had  been  adequately  noticed  in 
the  papers,  the  conventional  "  honeymoon  "  jour- 
ney had  been  made,  and  Alfred  Hardy  and  Jimmy 
Jinks  had  now  settled  down  to  the  routine  of 
their  respective  business  interests. 

Having  plunged  into  his  office  work  with  the 
same  vigour  with  which  he  had  attacked  higher 
mathematics,  Alfred  had  quickly  gained  the  con- 
fidence of  the  elders  of  his  firm,  and  they  had 
already  begun  to  give  way  to  him  in  many  import- 
ant decisions.  In  fact,  he  was  now  practically  at 
the  head  of  his  particular  department  with  one 
office  doing  well  in  Chicago  and  a  second  office 
promising  well  in  Detroit. 

As  for  Jimmy,  he  had  naturally  started  his 
business  career  with  fewer  pyrotechnics ;  but  he 
was  none  the  less  contented.  He  seldom  saw  his 
old  friend  Alfred  now,  but  Aggie  kept  more  or 
less  in  touch  with  Zoie ;  and  over  the  luncheon  table 
the  affairs  of  the  two  husbands  were  often  dis- 
cussed by  their  wives.  It  was  after  one  of  these 
luncheons  that  Aggie  upset  Jimmy's  evening  re- 
pose by  the  fireside  by  telling  him  that  she  was  a 
wee  bit  worried  about  Zoie  and  Alfred. 

16 


Baby   Mine  17 

"  Alfred  is  so  unreasonable,"  said  Aggie,  "  so 
peevish." 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy  shortly.  "  If 
he's  peevish  he  has  some  good  reason.  You  can 
be  sure  of  that." 

"  You  needn't  get  cross  with  me,  Jimmy,"  said 
Aggie  in  a  hurt  voice. 

"Why  should  I  be  cross  with  you?"  snapped 
Jimmy.  "  It  isn't  your  fault  if  Alfred's  made  a 
fool  of  himself  by  marrying  the  last  person  on 
earth  whom  he  should  have  married." 

"  I  think  he  was  very  lucky  to  get  her,"  argued 
Aggie  in  defence  of  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you?  "  answered  Jimmy  in  a 
very  aggrieved  tone. 

"  She  is  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  in  Chicago," 
said  Aggie. 

"  You're  pretty  too,"  answered  Jimmy,  "  but  it 
doesn't  make  an  idiot  of  you." 

"  It's  time  you  said  something  nice  to  me," 
purred  Aggie;  and  her  arm  stole  fondly  around 
Jimmy's  large  neck. 

"  I  don't  know  why  it  Is,"  said  Jimmy,  shaking 
his  head  dejectedly,  "  but  every  time  Zoie  Hardy's 
name  is  mentioned  in  this  house  it  seems  to  stir 
up  some  sort  of  a  row  between  you  and  me." 

"  That's  because  you're  so  prejudiced,"  an- 
swered Aggie  with  a  touch  of  irritation. 

"  There  you  go  again,"  said  Jimmy. 

"  I   didn't   mean   it ! "   interposed   Aggie    con- 


18  Baby   Mine 

tritely.  "  Oh,  come  now,  Jimmy,"  she  pleaded, 
"  let's  trundle  off  to  bed  and  forget  all  about  it." 
And  they  did. 

But  the  next  day,  as  Jimmy  was  heading  for 
the  La  Salle  restaurant  to  get  his  luncheon,  who 
should  call  to  him  airily  from  a  passing  taxi  but 
Zoie.  It  was  apparent  that  she  wished  him  to 
•wait  until  she  could  alight;  and  in  spite  of  his 
disinclination  to  do  so,  he  not  only  waited  but 
followed  the  taxi  to  its  stopping  place  and  helped 
the  young  woman  to  the  pavement. 

"  Oh,  you  darling !  "  exclaimed  Zoie,  all  of  a 
flutter,  and  looking  exactly  like  an  animated  doll. 
"  You've  just  saved  my  life."  She  called  to  the 
taxi  driver  to  "  wait." 

"  Are  you  in  trouble  ? "  asked  the  guileless 
Jimmy. 

"  Yes,  dreadful,"  answered  Zoie,  and  she  thrust 
a  half-dozen  small  parcels  into  Jimmy's  arms. 
"  I  have  to  be  at  my  dressmaker's  in  half  an  hour ; 
and  I  haven't  had  a  bite  of  lunch.  I'm  miles  and 
miles  from  home ;  and  I  can't  go  into  a  restaurant 
and  eat  just  by  myself  without  being  stared 
at.  Wasn't  it  lucky  that  I  saw  you  when  I 
did?" 

There  was  really  very  little  left  for  Jimmy  to 
say,  so  he  said  it;  and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
were  seated  tete-a-tete  in  one  of  Chicago's  most 
fashionable  restaurants,  and  Zoie  the  unconscious 
flirt  was  looking  up  at  Jimmy  with  apparently 


Baby   Mine  19 

adoring  eyes,  and  suggesting  all  the  eatables  which 
he  particularly  abominated. 

No  sooner  had  the  unfortunate  man  acquiesced 
in  one  thing  and  communicated  Zoie's  wish  to  the 
waiter,  than  the  flighty  young  person  found  some- 
thing else  on  the  menu  that  she  considered  more 
tempting  to  her  palate.  Time  and  again  the 
waiter  had  to  be  recalled  and  the  order  had  to  be 
given  over  until  Jimmy  felt  himself  laying  up  a 
store  of  nervous  indigestion  that  would  doubtless 
last  him  for  days. 

When  the  coveted  food  at  last  arrived,  Zoie 
had  become  completely  engrossed  in  the  headgear 
of  one  of  her  neighbours,  and  it  was  only  after 
Jimmy  had  been  induced  to  make  himself  ridicu- 
lous by  craning  his  neck  to  see  things  of  no  possi- 
ble interest  to  him  that  Zoie  at  last  gave  her 
attention  to  her  plate. 

In  obeyance  of  Jimmy's  order  the  waiter  man- 
aged to  rush  the  lunch  through  within  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour;  but  when  Jimmy  and  Zoie  at 
length  rose  to  go  he  was  so  insanely  irritated, 
that  he  declared  they  had  been  in  the  place  for 
hours ;  demanded  that  the  waiter  hurry  his 
bill;  and  then  finally  departed  in  high  dudgeon 
without  leaving  the  customary  "  tip "  behind 
him. 

But  all  this  was  without  its  effect  upon  Zoie, 
who,  a  few  moments  later  rode  away  in  her  taxi, 
waving  gaily  to  Jimmy  who  was  now  late  for 


20  Baby   Mine 

business  and  thoroughly  at  odds  with  himself  and 
the  world. 

As  a  result  of  the  time  lost  at  luncheon  Jimmy 
missed  an  appointment  that  had  to  wait  over 
until  after  office  hours,  and  as  a  result  of  this 
postponement,  he  missed  Aggie,  who  went  to  a 
friend's  house  for  dinner,  leaving  word  for  him 
to  follow.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life.  Jimmy 
disobeyed  Aggie's  orders,  and,  later  on.  when  he 
"  trundled  off  to  bed  "  alone,  he  again  recalled 
that  it  was  Zoie  Hardy  who  was  always  causing 
hard  feeling  between  him  and  his  spouse. 

Some  hours  later,  when  Aggie  reached  home 
with  misgivings  because  Jimmy  had  not  joined 
her,  she  was  surprised  to  find  him  sleeping  as 
peacefully  as  a  cherub.  "  Poor  dear,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  I  hope  he  wasn't  lonesome."  And  she 
stole  away  to  her  room. 

The  next  morning  when  Aggie  did  not  appear 
at  the  breakfast  table,  Jimmy  rushed  to  her  room 
in  genuine  alarm.  It  was  now  Aggie's  turn  to 
sleep  peacefully;  and  he  stole  dejectedly  back  to 
the  dining-room  and  for  the  first  time  since  their 
marriage,  he  munched  his  cold  toast  and  sipped 
his  coffee  alone. 

So  thoroughly  was  his  life  now  disorganised, 
and  so  low  were  his  spirits  that  he  determined  to 
walk  to  his  office,  relying  upon  the  crisp  morning 
air  to  brace  him  for  the  day's  encounters.  By 
degrees,  he  regained  his  good  cheer  and  as  usual 


Baby    Mine  21 

when  in  rising  spirits,  his  mind  turned  toward 
Aggie.  The  second  anniversary  of  their  wedding 
was  fast  approaching — he  began  to  take  notice  of 
various  window  displays.  By  the  time  he  had 
reached  his  office,  the  weightiest  decision  on  his 
mind  lay  in  choosing  between  a  pearl  pendant  and 
a  diamond  bracelet  for  his  now  adorable  spouse. 

But  a  more  difficult  problem  awaited  him.  Be- 
fore he  was  fairly  in  his  chair,  the  telephone  bell 
rang  violently.  Never  guessing  who  was  at  the 
other  end  of  the  wire,  he  picked  up  his  receiver 
and  answered. 

"What?"  he  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "Mrs. 
Hardy  ?  "  Several  times  he  opened  his  lips  to 
ask  a  question,  but  it  was  apparent  that  the  per- 
son at  the  other  end  of  the  line  had  a  great  deal 
to  say  and  very  little  time  to  say  it,  and  it  was 
only  after  repeated  attempts  that  he  managed  to 
get  in  a  word  or  so  edgewise. 

"  What's  happened?  "  he  asked. 

"  Say  nothing  to  anybody,"  was  Zoie's  non- 
committal answer,  "  not  even  to  Aggie.  Jump 
in  a  taxi  and  come  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

"  But  what  is  it?  "  persisted  Jimmy.  The  dull 
sound  of  the  wire  told  him  that  the  person  at  the 
other  end  had  "  hung  up." 

Jimmy  gazed  about  the  room  in  perplexity. 
What  was  he  to  do?  Why  on  earth  should  he 
leave  his  letters  unanswered  and  his  mail  topsy 
turvy  to  rush  forth  in  the  shank  of  the  morning 


22  Baby    Mine 

at  the  bidding  of  a  young  woman  whom  he  ab- 
horred. Ridiculous !  He  would  do  no  such 
thing.  He  lit  a  cigar  and  began  to  open  a  few 
letters  marked  "  private."  For  the  life  of  him  he 
could  not  understand  one  word  that  he  read. 
A  worried  look  crossed  his  face. 

"  Suppose  Zoie  were  really  in  need  of  help, 
Aggie  would  certainly  never  forgive  him  if  he 
failed  her."  He  rose  and  walked  up  and  down. 

"Why  was  he  not  to  tell  Aggie?" 

"  Where  was  Alfred?  "  He  stopped  abruptly. 
His  over  excited  imagination  had  suggested  a 
horrible  but  no  doubt  accurate  answer.  "  Wedded 
to  an  abomination  like  Zoie,  Alfred  had  sought 
the  only  escape  possible  to  a  man  of  his  honour- 
able ideals — he  had  committed  suicide." 

Seizing  his  coat  and  hat  Jimmy  dashed  through 
the  outer  office  without  instructing  his  astonished 
staff  as  to  when  he  might  possibly  return. 

"  Family  troubles,"  said  the  secretary  to  him- 
self as  he  appropriated  one  of  Jimmy's  best  cigars. 


CHAPTER     IV 

LESS  than  half  an  hour  later,  Jimmy's  taxi 
stopped  in  front  of  the  fashionable  Sherwood 
Apartments  where  Zoie  had  elected  to  live.  As- 
cending toward  the  fifth  floor  he  scanned  the  face 
of  the  elevator  boy  expecting  to  find  it  particu- 
larly solemn  because  of  the  tragedy  that  had 
doubtless  taken  place  upstairs.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  sending  out  a  "  feeler  "  about  the  matter, 
when  he  remembered  Zoie's  solemn  injunction  to 
"  say  nothing  to  anybody."  Perhaps  it  was  even 
worse  than  suicide.  He  dared  let  his  imagination 
go  no  further.  By  the  time  he  had  put  out  his  hand 
to  touch  the  electric  button  at  Zoie's  front  door, 
his  finger  was  trembling  so  that  he  wondered 
whether  he  could  hit  the  mark.  The  result  was  a 
very  faint  note  from  the  bell,  but  not  so  faint 
that  it  escaped  the  ear  of  the  anxious  young  wife, 
who  had  been  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  of  her 
charming  living  room  for  what  seemed  to  her  ages. 

"  Hurry,  hurry,  hurry !  "  Zoie  cried  through 
her  tears  to  her  neat  little  maid  servant,  then 
reaching  for  her  chatelaine,  she  daubed  her  small 
nose  and  flushed  cheeks  with  powder,  after  which 
she  nodded  to  Mary  to  open  the  door. 

To  Jimmy,  the  maid's  pert  "  good-morning  " 
23 


24  Baby    Mine 

seemed  to  be  in  very  bad  taste  and  to  properly 
reprove  her  he  assumed  a  grave,  dignified  air  out 
of  which  he  was  promptly  startled  by  Zoie's  even 
more  unseemly  greeting. 

"  Hello,  Jimmy !  "  she  snapped.  Her  tone  was 
certainly  not  that  of  a  heart-broken  widow.  "  It's 
time  you  got  here,"  she  added  with  an  injured  air. 

Jimmy  gazed  at  Zoie  in  astonishment.  She 
was  never  what  he  would  have  called  a  sympa- 
thetic woman,  but  really ! 

"  I  came  the  moment  you  'phoned  me,"  he 
stammered ;  "  what  is  it  ?  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  It's  awful,"  sniffled  Zoie.  And  she  tore  up 
and  down  the  room  regardless  of  the  fact  that 
Jimmy  was  still  unseated. 

"Awful  what?  "  questioned  Jimmy. 

"  Worst  I've  ever  had,"  sobbed  Zoie. 

"  Is  anything  wrong  with  Alfred?  "  ventured 
Jimmy.  And  he  braced  himself  for  her  answer. 

"  He's  gone,"  sobbed  Zoie. 

"  Gone !  "  echoed  Jimmy,  feeling  sure  that  his 
worst  fears  were  about  to  be  realised.  "  Gone 
where?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  sniffled  Zoie,  "I  just  'phoned 
his  office.  He  isn't  there." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all?  "  answered  Jimmy,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "  Just  another  little  family  tiff,"  he 
was  unable  to  conceal  a  feeling  of  thankfulness. 
"What's  up?" 

Zoie  measured  Jimmy  with  a  dangerous  gleam 


Baby   Mine  25 

in  her  eyes.  She  resented  the  patronising  tone 
that  he  was  adopting.  How  dare  he  be  cheerful 
when  she  was  so  unhappy — and  because  of  him, 
too?  She  determined  that  his  self-complacency 
should  be  short-lived. 

"  Alfred  has  found  out  that  I  lied  about  the 
luncheon,"  she  said,  weighing  her  words  and  their 
effect  upon  Jimmy. 

"What  luncheon?"  stuttered  Jimmy,  feeling 
sure  that  Zoie  had  suddenly  marked  him  for  her 
victim,  but  puzzled  as  to  what  form  her  perse- 
cution was  about  to  take. 

"What  luncheon?"  repeated  Zoie,  trying  ap- 
parently to  conceal  her  disgust  at  his  dulness. 
"  Our  luncheon  yesterday" 

"  Why  did  you  lie?  "  asked  Jimmy,  his  £yes 
growing  rounder  and  rounder  with  wonder. 

"  I  didn't  know  he  knew,"  answered  Zoie  inno- 
cently. 

"Knew  what?"  questioned  Jimmy,  more  and 
more  befogged. 

"  That  I'd  eaten  with  a  man,"  concluded  Zoie 
impatiently.  Then  she  turned  her  back  upon 
Jimmy  and  again  dashed  up  and  down  the  room 
occupied  with  her  own  thoughts. 

It  was  certainly  difficult  to  get  much  under- 
standing out  of  Zoie's  disjointed  observations, 
but  Jimmy  was  doing  his  best.  He  followed  her 
restless  movements  about  the  room  with  his  eyes, 
and  then  ventured  a  timid  comment. 


26  Baby   Mine 

"He  couldn't  object  to  your  eating  with  me." 

"  Oh,  couldn't  he?  "  cried  Zoie,  and  she  turned 
upon  him  with  a  look  of  contempt.  "  If  there's 
anything  that  he  doesn't  object  to,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  I  haven't  found  it  out  yet."  And  with 
that  she  threw  herself  in  a  large  arm  chair  near 
the  table,  and  left  Jimmy  to  draw  his  own  con- 
clusions. 

Jimmy  looked  about  the  room  as  though  ex- 
pecting aid  from  some  unseen  source;  then  his 
eyes  sought  the  floor.  Eventually  they  crept  to 
the  tip  of  Zoie's  tiny  slipper  as  it  beat  a  nervous 
tattoo  on  the  rug.  To  save  his  immortal  soul, 
Jimmy  could  never  help  being  hypnotised  by 
Zoie's  small  feet.  He  wondered  now  if  they  had 
been  the  reason  of  Alfred's  first  downfall.  He  re- 
called with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  Aggie's  feet  were 
large  and  reassuring.  He  also  recalled  an  ap- 
propriate quotation :  "  The  path  of  virtue  is  not 
for  women  with  small  feet,"  it  ran.  "  Yes,  Aggie's 
feet  are  undoubtedly  large,"  he  concluded.  But 
all  this  was  not  solving  Zoie's  immediate  prob- 
lem; and  an  impatient  cough  from  her  made  him 
realise  that  something  was  expected  of  him. 

"  Why  did  you  lunch  with  me,"  he  asked,  with 
a  touch  of  irritation,  "  if  you  thought  he  wouldn't 
like  it?  " 

"  I  was  hungry,"  snapped  Zoie. 

"  Oh,"  grunted  Jimmy,  and  in  spite  of  his  dis- 
like of  the  small  creature  his  vanity  resented  the 


Baby    Mine  27 

bald  assertion  that  she  had  not  lunched  with  him 
for  his  company's  sake. 

'*  I  wouldn't  have  made  an  engagement  with 
you  of  course,"  she  continued,  with  a  frankness 
that  vanquished  any  remaining  conceit  that 
Jimmy  might  have  brought  with  him.  "  I  ex- 
plained to  you  how  it  was  at  the  time.  It  was 
merely  a  case  of  convenience.  You  know  that." 

Jimmy  was  beginning  to  see  it  more  and  more 
in  the  light  of  an  inconvenience. 

"  If  you  hadn't  been  in  front  of  that  horrid 
old  restaurant  just  when  I  was  passing,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  all  this  would  never  have  happened. 
But  you  were  there,  and  you  asked  me  to  come 
in  and  have  a  bite  with  you;  and  I  did,  and  there 
you  are." 

"  Yes,  there  I  am,"  assented  Jimmy  dismally. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  where  he  was  now,  but 
where  was  he  going  to  end?  That  was  the  ques- 
tion. "  See  here,"  he  exclaimed  with  fast  grow- 
ing uneasiness,  "  I  don't  like  being  mixed  up  in 
this  sort  of  thing." 

"  Of  course  you'd  think  of  yourself  first," 
sneered  Zoie.  "  That's  just  like  a  man." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  get  your  husband  down 
on  me,"  argued  Jimmy  evasively. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  give  you  away,"  sneered  Zoie. 
"  You  needn't  worry,"  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon 
him  with  a  scornful  expression  that  left  no  doubt 
as  to  her  opinion  that  he  was  a  craven  coward. 


28  Baby   Mine 

"  But  you  said  he'd  '  found  out,' "  stammered 
Jimmy. 

"  He's  found  out  that  I  ate  with  a  man,"  an- 
swered Zoic,  more  and  more  aggrieved  at  having 
to  employ  so  much  detail  in  the  midst  of  her  dis- 
tress. "  He  doesn't  know  it  was  you." 

"  But  Zoie "  protested  Jimmy. 

She  lifted  a  small  hand,  begging  him  to  spare 
her  further  questions.  It  was  apparent  that  she 
must  explain  each  aspect  of  their  present  diffi- 
culty, with  as  much  patience  as  though  Jimmy 
were  in  reality  only  a  child.  She  sank  into  her 
chair  and  then  proceeded,  with  a  martyred 
air. 

"  You  see  it  was  like  this,"  she  said.  "  Alfred 
came  into  the  restaurant  just  after  we  had  gone 
out  and  Henri,  the  waiter  who  has  taken  care  of 
him  for  years,  told  him  that  I  had  just  been  in 
to  luncheon  with  a  gentleman." 

Jimmy  shifted  about  on  the  edge  of  his  chair, 
ill  at  ease. 

"  Now  if  Alfred  had  only  told  me  that  in  the 
first  place,"  she  continued,  "  I'd  have  known  what 
to  say,  but  he  didn't.  Oh  no,  he  was  as  sweet  as 
could  be  all  through  breakfast  and  last  night  too, 
and  then  just  as  he  was  leaving  this  morning,  I 
said  something  about  luncheon  and  he  said,  quite 
casually,  *  Where  did  you  have  luncheon  yester- 
day, my  dear?  '  So  I  answered  quite  carelessly, 
*  I  had  none,  my  love.'  Well,  I  wish  you  could 


Baby   Mine  29 

have  seen  him.  He  called  me  dreadful  things. 
He  says  I'm  the  one  thing  he  can't  endure." 

"What's  that?  "  questioned  Jimmy,  wondering 
how  Alfred  could  confine  himself  to  any  "  one 
thing." 

"  He  says  I'm  a  liar !  "  shrieked  Zoie  tearfully. 

"Well,  aren't  you?"  asked  Jimmy. 

"Of  course  I  am,"  declared  Zoie;  "but  why 
shouldn't  I  be? "  She  looked  at  Jimmy  with 
such  an  air  of  self-approval  that  for  the  life  of 
him  he  could  find  no  reason  to  offer.  "  You 
know  how  jealous  Alfred  is,"  she  continued. 
"  He  makes  such  a  fuss  about  the  slightest  thing 
that  I've  got  out  of  the  habit  of  ever  telling  the 
truth"  She  walked  away  from  Jimmy  as  though 
dismissing  the  entire  matter;  he  shifted  his  posi- 
tion uneasily ;  she  turned  to  him  again  with  mock 
sweetness.  "  I  suppose  you  told  Aggie  all  about 
it?  "  she  said. 

Jimmy's  round  eyes  opened  wide  and  his  jaw 
dropped  lower.  "  I — I — don't  believe  I  did,"  he 
stammered  weakly.  "  I  didn't  think  of  it  again." 

"  Thank  heaven  for  that ! "  concluded  Zoie 
with  tightly  pressed  lips.  Then  she  knotted  her 
small  white  brow  in  deep  thought. 

Jimmy  regarded  her  with  growing  uneasi- 
ness. "  What  are  you  up  to  now?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  mused  Zoie,  "  but  you're 
not  going  to  tell  Aggie — that's  one  sure  thing." 
And  she  pinned  him  down  with  her  eyes. 


30  Baby   Mine 

"  I  certainly  will  tell  her,"  asserted  Jimmy, 
•with  a  wag  of  his  very  round  head.  "  Aggie  is 
just  the  one  to  get  you  out  of  this." 

**  She's  just  the  one  to  make  things  worse," 
said  Zoie  decidedly.  Then  seeing  Jimmy's  hurt 
look,  she  continued  apologetically :  "  Aggie 
means  all  right,  but  she  has  an  absolute  mania 
for  mixing  up  in  other  people's  troubles.  And 
you  know  how  that  always  ends." 

"  I  never  deceived  my  wife  in  all  my  life,"  de- 
clared Jimmy,  with  an  air  of  self  approval  that 
he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"  Now,  Jimmy,"  protested  Zoie  impatiently, 
"  you  aren't  going  to  have  moral  hydrophobia 
just  when  I  need  your  help!" 

"  I'm  not  going  to  lie  to  Aggie,  if  that's  what 
you  mean,"  said  Jimmy,  endeavouring  not  to 
wriggle  under  Zoie's  disapproving  gaze. 

"  Then  don't,"  answered  Zoie  sweetly. 

Jimmy  never  feared  Zoie  more  than  when  she 
appeared  to  agree  with  him.  He  looked  at  her 
now  with  uneasy  distrust. 

"Tell  her  the  truth,"  urged  Zoie. 

"  I  will,"  declared  Jimmy  with  an  emphatic 
nod. 

"And  Pll  deny  it,"  concluded  Zoie  with  an  im- 
pudent toss  of  her  head. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  and  he  felt  him- 
self getting  onto  his  feet. 

"  I've  already  denied  it  to  Alfred,"  continued 


Mine  81 

Zoie.  "  I  told  him  I'd  never  been  in  that  restau- 
rant without  him  in  all  my  life,  that  the  waiter 
had  mistaken  someone  else  for  me."  And  again 
she  turned  her  back  upon  Jimmy. 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  protested  Jimmy,  "  this 
would  all  be  so  very  much  simpler  if  you'd 
just  own  up  to  the  truth  now,  before  it's  too 
late?" 

"It  is  too  late,"  declared  Zoie.  "Alfred 
wouldn't  believe  me  now,  whatever  I  told  him. 
He  says  a  woman  who  lies  once  lies  all  the  time. 
He'd  think  I'd  been  carrying  on  with  you  all 
along." 

"  Good  Lord ! "  groaned  Jimmy  as  the  full 
realisation  of  his  predicament  thrust  itself  upon 
him. 

"  We  don't  dare  tell  him  now,"  continued  Zoie, 
elated  by  the  demoralised  state  to  which  she  was 
fast  reducing  him.  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
make  it  any  worse,"  she  concluded ;  "  it's  bad 
enough  as  it  is." 

"  It  certainly  is,"  agreed  Jimmy,  and  he  sank 
dejectedly  into  his  chair. 

"  If  you  do  tell  him,"  threatened  Zoie  from 
the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  "  I'll  say  you  en- 
ticed me  into  the  place." 

"  What !  "  shrieked  Jimmy  and  again  he  found 
himself  on  his  feet. 

"  I  will,"  insisted  Zoie ;  "  I  give  you  fair  warn- 
ing." 


32  Baby   Mine 

He  stared  at  her  in  absolute  horror.  "  I  don't 
believe  you've  any  conscience  at  all,"  he  said. 

"  I  haven't,"  she  sniffled.  "  I'm  too  miser- 
able." And  throwing  herself  into  the  nearest 
armchair  she  wept  copiously  at  the  thought  of 
her  many  injuries. 

Uncertain  whether  to  fly  or  to  remain,  Jimmy 
gazed  at  her  gloomily.  "  Well,  I'm  not  laughing 
myself  to  death,"  he  said. 

For  answer  Zoie  turned  upon  him  vehemently. 
"  I  just  wish  I'd  never  laid  eyes  on  you,  Jimmy," 
she  cried. 

Jimmy  was  wishing  the  very  same  thing. 

"  If  I  cared  about  you,"  she  sobbed,  "  it 
wouldn't  be  so  bad ;  but  to  think  of  losing  my  Al- 
fred for "  words  failed  her  and  she  trailed 

off  weakly, — "  for  nothing !  " 

"  Thanks,"  grunted  Jimmy  curtly.  In  spite 
of  himself  he  was  always  miffed  by  the  uncompli- 
mentary way  in  which  she  disposed  of  him. 

His  sarcasm  was  lost  upon  Zoie.  Having  fin- 
ished all  she  had  to  say  to  him,  she  was  now  ap- 
parently bent  upon  indulging  herself  in  a  first 
class  fit  of  hysterics. 

There  are  critical  moments  in  all  of  our  lives 
when  our  future  happiness  or  woe  hangs  upon 
our  own  decision.  Jimmy  felt  intuitively  that 
he  was  face  to  face  with  such  a  moment,  but 
which  way  to  turn?  that  was  the  question.  Being 
Jimmy,  and  soft-hearted  in  spite  of  his  efforts 


Baby   Mine  33 

to  conceal  it,  he  naturally  turned  the  wrong  way, 
in  other  words,  towards  Zoie. 

"  Oh,  come  now,"  he  said  awkwardly,  as  he 
crossed  to  the  arm  of  her  chair.  "  This  will  soon 
blow  over." 

Zoie  only  sobbed  the  louder. 

"  This  isn't  the  first  time  you  and  Alfred  have 
called  it  all  off,"  he  reminded  her. 

Again  she  sobbed. 

Jimmy  could  never  remember  quite  how  it  hap- 
pened. But  apparently  he  must  have  patted  Zoie 
on  the  shoulder.  At  any  rate,  something  or  other 
loosened  the  flood-gates  of  her  emotion,  and  be- 
fore Jimmy  could  possibly  escape  from  her  vicin- 
ity she  had  wheeled  round  in  her  chair,  thrown 
her  arms  about  him,  and  buried  her  tear-stained 
face  against  his  waist-coat. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  for  the  third 
time  that  morning,  as  he  glanced  nervously  to- 
ward the  door;  but  Zoie  was  exclaiming  in  her 
own  way  and  sobbing  louder  and  louder;  further- 
more she  was  compelling  Jimmy  to  listen  to  an 
exaggerated  account  of  her  many  disappoint- 
ments in  her  unreasonable  husband.  Seeing  no 
possibility  of  escape,  without  resorting  to  ph}7si- 
cal  violence,  Jimmy  stood  his  ground,  wondering 
what  to  expect  next.  He  did  not  have  long  to 
wonder. 


CHAPTER     V 

WITHIN  an  hour  from  the  time  Alfred  had  en- 
tered his  office  that  morning  he  was  leaving  it,  in 
a  taxi,  with  his  faithful  secretary  at  his  side,  and 
his  important  papers  in  a  bag  at  his  feet. 
"  Take  me  to  the  Sherwood,"  he  commanded  the 
driver,  "  and  be  quick." 

As  they  neared  Alfred's  house,  Johnson  could 
feel  waves  of  increasing  anger  circling  around  his 
perturbed  young  employer  and  later  when  they 
alighted  from  the  taxi  it  was  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  he  could  keep  pace  with  him. 

Unfortunately  for  Jimmy,  the  outer  door  of 
the  Hardy  apartment  had  been  left  ajar,  and 
thus  it  was  that  he  was  suddenly  startled  from 
Zoie's  unwelcome  embraces  by  a  sharp  exclama- 
tion. 

"  So !  "  cried  Alfred,  and  he  brought  his  fist 
down  with  emphasis  on  the  centre  table  at  Jim- 
my's back. 

Wheeling  about,  Jimmy  beheld  his  friend  face 
to  face  with  him.  Alfred's  lips  were  pressed 
tightly  together,  his  eyes  flashing  fire.  It  was 
apparent  that  he  desired  an  immediate  explana- 
tion. Jimmy  turned  to  the  place  where  Zoie  had 
been,  to  ask  for  help;  like  the  traitress  that  she 

34 


Baby   Mine  35 

was,  he  now  saw  her  flying  through  her  bedroom 
door.  Again  he  glanced  at  Alfred,  who  was 
standing  like  a  sentry,  waiting  for  the  pass-word 
that  should  restore  his  confidence  in  his  friend, 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  disturbed  you,"  sneered  Al- 
fred. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  answered  Jimmy,  affect- 
ing a  careless  indifference  that  he  did  not  feel 
and  unconsciously  shaking  hands  with  the  waiting 
secretary. 

Reminded  of  the  secretary's  presence  in  such 
a  distinctly  family  scene,  Alfred  turned  to  him 
with  annoyance. 

"  Go  into  my  study,"  he  said.  "  I'll  be  with 
you  presently.  Here's  your  list,"  he  added  and 
he  thrust  a  long  memorandum  into  the  sec- 
retary's hand.  Johnson  retired  as  unobtrusively 
as  possible  and  the  two  old  friends  were  left  alone. 
There  was  another  embarrassed  silence  which 
Jimmy,  at  least,  seemed  powerless  to  break. 

"Well?"  questioned  Alfred  in  a  threatening 
tone. 

"  Tolerably  well,"  answered  Jimmy  in  his  most 
pleasant  but  slightly  nervous  manner.  Then  fol- 
lowed another  pause  in  which  Alfred  continued 
to  eye  his  old  friend  with  grave  suspicion. 

"The  fact  is,"  stammered  Jimmy,  "I  just 
came  over  to  bring  Aggie "  he  corrected  him- 
self—  "  that  is,  to  bring  Zoie  a  little  message 
from  Aggie." 


36  Baby    Mine 

"  It  seemed  to  be  a  sad  one,"  answered  Alfred, 
with  a  sarcastic  smile,  as  he  recalled  the  picture 
of  Zoie  weeping  upon  his  friend's  sleeve. 

"  Oh  no — no !  "  answered  Jimmy,  with  an  elab- 
orate attempt  at  carelessness. 

"  Do  you  generally  play  the  messenger  during 
business  hours?"  thundered  Alfred,  becoming 
more  and  more  enraged  at  Jimmy's  petty  eva- 
sions. 

"  Just  sometimes,"  answered  Jimmy,  persist- 
ing in  his  amiable  manner. 

"  Jimmy,"  said  Alfred,  and  there  was  a  solemn 
warning  in  his  voice,  "  don't  you  lie  to  me !  " 

Jimmy  started  as  though  shot.  The  conscious- 
ness of  his  guilt  was  strong  upon  him.  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  he  gasped,  for  the  want  of  any- 
thing more  intelligent  to  say. 

"  You  don't  do  it  -well,"  continued  Alfred* 
'*  and  you  and  I  are  old  friends." 

Jimmy's  round  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the 
carpet. 

"  My  wife  has  been  telling  you  her  troubles," 
surmised  Alfred. 

Jimmy  tried  to  protest,  but  the  lie  would  not 
come. 

"Very  well,"  continued  Alfred,  "I'll  tell  you 
something  too.  I've  done  with  her."  He  thrust 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  began  to  walk  up 
and  down. 

"  What      a     turbulent     household,"      thought 


Baby    Mine  37 

Jimmy  and  then  he  set  out  in  pursuit  of  his 
friend.  "  I'm  sorry  you've  had  a  misunderstand- 
ing," he  began. 

"Misunderstanding!"  shouted  Alfred,  turn- 
ing upon  him  so  sharply  that  he  nearly  tripped 
him  up,  "  we've  never  had  anything  else.  There 
was  never  anything  else  for  us  to  have.  She's 
lied  up  hill  and  down  dale  from  the  first  time  she 
clinched  her  baby  fingers  around  my  hand — " 
he  imitated  Zoie's  dainty  manner —  "  and  said 
*  pleased  to  meet  you ! '  But  I've  caught  her 
with  the  goods  this  time,"  he  shouted,  "  and  I've 
just  about  got  htm." 

"  Him !  "  echoed  Jimmy  weakly. 

"  The  wife-stealer,"  exclaimed  Alfred,  and  he 
clinched  his  fists  in  anticipation  of  the  justice 
he  would  one  day  mete  out  to  the  despicable  crea- 
ture. 

Now  Jimmy  had  been  called  many  things  in. 
his  time,  he  realised  that  he  would  doubtless  be 
called  many  more  things  in  the  future,  but  never 
by  the  wildest  stretch  of  imagination,  had  he 
ever  conceived  of  himself  in  the  role  of  *'  wife- 
stealer." 

Mistaking  Jimmy's  look  of  amazement  for  one 
of  incredulity,  Alfred  endeavoured  to  convince 
him. 

"  Oh,  you'll  meet  a  wife-stealer  sooner  or  later," 
he  assured  him.  "  You  needn't  look  so  horri- 
fied." 


38  Baby    Mine 

Jimmy  only  stared  at  him  and  he  continued 
excitedly :  "  She's  had  the  effrontery — the  bad 
taste — the  idiocy  to  lunch  in  a  public  restau- 
rant with  the  blackguard." 

The  mere  sound  of  the  word  made  Jimmy 
shudder,  but  engrossed  in  his  own  troubles  Al- 
fred continued  without  heeding  him. 

"  Henri,  the  head-waiter,  told  me,"  explained 
Alfred,  and  Jimmy  remembered  guiltily  that  he 
had  been  very  bumptious  with  the  fellow.  "  You 
know  the  place,"  continued  Alfred,  "  the  LaSalle 
— a  restaurant  where  I  am  known — where  she  is 
known — where  my  best  friends  dine — where 
Henri  has  looked  after  me  for  years.  That 
shows  how  desperate  she  is.  She  must  be  mad 
about  the  fool.  She's  lost  all  sense  of  decency." 
And  again  Alfred  paced  the  floor. 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  go  as  far  as  that,"  stammered 
Jimmy. 

"Oh,  wouldn't  you?"  cried  Alfred,  again 
turning  so  abruptly  that  Jimmy  caught  his 
breath.  Each  word  of  Jimmy's  was  apparently 
goading  him  on  to  greater  anger. 

"  Now  don't  get  hasty,"  Jimmy  almost  pleaded. 
"  The  whole  thing  is  no  doubt  perfectly  innocent. 
Talk  to  her  gently.  Win  her  confidence.  Get 
her  to  tell  you  the  truth." 

"  The  truth ! "  shouted  Alfred  in  derision. 
"Zoie!  The  truth!" 

Jimmy  feared  that  his  young  friend  might  ac- 


Baby    Mine  39 

tually  become  violent.  Alfred  bore  down  upon 
him  like  a  maniac. 

"The  truth!"  he  repeated  wildly.  "She 
wouldn't  know  the  truth  if  she  saw  it  under  a 
microscope.  She's  the  most  unconscionable  lit- 
tle liar  that  ever  lured  a  man  to  the  altar." 

Jimmy  rolled  his  round  eyes  with  feigned  in- 
credulity. 

"  I  found  it  out  before  we'd  been  married  a 
month,"  continued  Alfred.  "  She  used  to  sit 
evenings  facing  the  clock.  I  sat  with  my  back 
to  it.  I  used  to  ask  her  the  time.  Invariably 
she  would  lie  half  an  hour,  backward  or  forward, 
just  for  practice.  That  was  the  beginning. 
Here,  listen  to  some  of  these,"  he  added,  as  he 
drew  half  a  dozen  telegrams  from  his  inner 
pocket,  and  motioned  Jimmy  to  sit  at  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  table. 

Jimmy  would  have  preferred  to  stand,  but  it 
was  not  a  propitious  time  to  consult  his  own  pref- 
erences. He  allowed  himself  to  be  bullied  into 
the  chair  that  Alfred  suggested. 

Throwing  himself  into  the  opposite  chair,  Al- 
fred selected  various  exhibits  from  his  collection 
of  messages.  "  I  just  brought  these  up  from 
the  office,"  he  said.  "  These  are  some  of  the  tel- 
egrams that  she  sent  me  each  day  last  week  while 
I  was  away.  This  is  Monday's."  And  he  pro- 
ceeded to  read  with  a  sneering  imitation  of  Zoie's 
cloy  sweetness. 


40  Baby    Mine 

"  *  Darling,  so  lonesome  without  you.  Cried 
all  day.  When  are  you  coming  home  to  your 
wee  sad  wifie?  Love  and  kisses.  Zoie.''  Tear- 
ing the  defenceless  telegram  into  bits,  Alfred 
threw  it  from  him  and  waited  for  his  friend's 
verdict. 

"  She  sent  that  over  the  wire?  "  gasped  Jimmy. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  answered  Alfred. 
"  That's  a  mild  one."  And  he  selected  another 
from  the  same  pocket.  "  Here,  listen  to  this. 
This  is  what  she  really  did.  This  is  from  my  sec- 
retary the  same  night." 

"  You  spied  upon  her !  "  asked  Jimmy,  feeling 
more  and  more  convinced  that  his  own  decep- 
tions would  certainly  be  run  to  earth. 

"  I  have  to  spy  upon  her,"  answered  Alfred, 
"  in  self-defence.  It's  the  only  way  I  can  keep 
her  from  making  me  utterly  ridiculous."  And 
he  proceeded  to  read  from  the  secretary's  tele-- 
gram. " '  Shopped  all  morning.  Lunched  at 
Martingale's  with  man  and  woman  unknown  to 
me — Martingale's, '  "  he  repeated  with  a  sneer — 
"  '  Motored  through  Park  with  Mrs.  Wilmer  un- 
til five.'  Mrs.  Wilmer,"  he  exclaimed,  "  there's 
a  woman  I've  positively  forbidden  her  to  speak 
to." 

Jimmy  only  shook  his  head  and  Alfred  contin- 
ued to  read. 

"  '  Had  tea  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thompson  and 
young  Ardesley  at  the  Park  View.'  Ardesley  is 


Baby    Mine  41 

a  young  cub,"  explained  Alfred,  "  who  spends  his 
time  running  around  with  married  women  while 
their  husbands  are  away  trying  to  make  a  living 
for  them." 

"  Shocking !  "  was  the  extent  of  Jimmy's  com- 
ment, and  Alfred  resumed  reading. 

" '  Dinner  and  theatre  same  party.  Supper 
at  Wellingford.  Home  two  A.  M.'  '  He  looked 
at  Jimmy,  expecting  to  hear  Zoie  bitterly  con- 
demned. Jimmy  only  stared  at  him  blankly. 
"  That's  pretty  good,"  commented  Alfred,  "  for 
the  woman  who  4  cried  '  all  day,  isn't  it?  " 

Still  Jimmy  made  no  answer,  and  Alfred 
brought  his  fist  down  upon  the  table  impatiently. 
"Isn't  it?"  he  repeated. 

"  She  was  a  bit  busy  tliat  day,"  admitted 
Jimmy  uneasily. 

"  The  truth !  "  cried  Alfred  again,  as  he  rose 
and  paced  about  excitedly.  "  Getting  the  truth 
out  of  Zoie  is  like  going  to  a  fire  in  the  night. 
You  think  it's  near,  but  you  never  get  there. 
And  when  she  begins  by  saying  that  she's  going 
to  tell  you  the  *  real  truth  '  " — he  threw  up  his 
hands  in  despair — "  well,  then  it's  time  to  leave 
home." 


CHAPTER     VI 

THERE  was  another  pause,  then  Alfred  drew 
in  his  breath  and  bore  down  upon  Jimmy  with 
fresh  vehemence.  "  The  only  time  I  get  even  a 
semblance  of  truth  out  of  Zoie,"  he  cried,  "  is 
when  I  catch  her  red-handed."  Again  he 
pounded  the  table  and  again  Jimmy  winced. 
"  And  even  then,"  he  continued,  "  she  colours  it 
so  with  her  affected  innocence  and  her  plea  about 
just  wishing  to  be  a  s  good  fellow,'  that  she  al- 
most makes  me  doubt  my  own  eyes.  She  is  an 
artist,"  he  declared  with  a  touch  of  enforced  ad- 
miration. "There's  no  use  talking;  that  woman 
is  an  artist." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Jimmy, 
for  the  want  of  anything  better  to  say. 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  her,"  declared  Alfred 
emphatically.  "  I  am  going  away." 

A  faint  hope  lit  Jimmy's  round  childlike  face. 
With  Alfred  away  there  would  be  no  further  in- 
vestigation of  the  luncheon  incident. 

"  That  might  be  a  good  idea,"  he  said. 

"It's  the  idea,"  said  Alfred;  "most  of  my 
business  is  in  Detroit  anyhow.  I'm  going  to 
make  that  my  headquarters  and  stay  there." 

Jimmy  was  almost  smiling. 
42 


Baby   Mine  43 

"  As  for  Zoie,"  continued  Alfred,  "  she  can 
stay  right  here  and  go  as  far  as  she  likes." 

"  Not  with  me,"  thought  Jimmy. 

"  But,"  shrieked  Alfred,  with  renewed  empha- 
sis, "  I'm  going  to  find  out  who  the  fellow  is. 
I'll  have  that  satisfaction!" 

Jimmy's  spirits  fell. 

"  Henri  knows  the  head-waiter  of  every  res- 
taurant in  this  town,"  said  Alfred,  "  that  is, 
every  one  where  she'd  be  likely  to  go;  and  he 
says  he'd  recognise  the  man  she  lunched  with  if 
he  saw  him  again." 

Jimmy's  features  became  suddenly  distorted. 

"  The  minute  she  appears  anywhere  with  any- 
body," explained  Alfred,  "  Henri  will  be  notified 
by  'phone.  He'll  identify  the  man  and  then  he'll 
wire  me." 

"What  good  will  that  do?"  asked  Jimmy 
weakly. 

"  I'll  take  the  first  train  home,"  declared  Al- 
fred. 

"  For  what?  "  questioned  Jimmy. 

"  To  shoot  him !  "  exclaimed  Alfred. 

"  What !  "  gasped  Jimmy,  almost  losing  his 
footing. 

Alfred  mistook  Jimmy's  concern  for  anxiety 
on  his  behalf. 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  acquitted,"  he  declared.  "  Don't 
you  worry.  I'll  get  my  tale  of  woe  before  the 
jury." 


44  Baby   Mine 

"  But  I  say,"  protested  Jimmy,  too  uneasy  to 
longer  conceal  his  real  emotions,  "why  kill 
this  one  particular  chap  when  there  are  so  many 
others?" 

"  He's  the  only  one  she's  ever  lunched  with, 
alone,"  said  Alfred.  "  She's  been  giddy,  but  at 
least  she's  always  been  chaperoned,  except  with 
him.  He's  the  one  all  right;  there's  no  doubt 
about  it.  He's  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

"  His  own  end,  yes,"  assented  Jimmy  half  to 
himself.  "  Now,  see  here,  old  man,"  he  argued, 
"  I'd  give  that  poor  devil  a  chance  to  explain." 

"  Explain !  "  shouted  Alfred  so  sharply  that 
Jimmy  quickly  retreated.  "  I  wouldn't  believe 
him  now  if  he  were  one  of  the  Twelve  Apostles." 

"  That's  tough,"  murmured  Jimmy  as  he  saw 
the  last  avenue  of  honourable  escape  closed  to  him. 

"  Tough ! "  roared  Alfred,  thinking  of  him- 
self. "  Hah." 

"  On  the  Apostles,  I  mean,"  explained  Jimmy 
nervously. 

Again  Alfred  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  and 
again  Jimmy  tried  to  think  of  some  way  to 
escape  from  his  present  difficulty.  It  was 
quite  apparent  that  his  only  hope  lay  not  in  his 
own  candor,  but  in  Alfred's  absence.  "  How 
long  do  you  expect  to  be  away?  "  he  asked. 

"  Only  until  I  hear  from  Henri,"  said  Al- 
fred. 

"  Henri  ?  "  repeated  Jimmy  and  again  a  gleam 


Baby   Mine  45 

of  hope  shone  on  his  dull  features.  He  had  heard 
that  waiters  were  often  to  be  bribed.  "  Nice  fel- 
low, Henri,"  he  ventured  cautiously.  "  Gets  a 
large  salary,  no  doubt?" 

"  Does  he !  "  exclaimed  Alfred,  with  a  certain 
pride  of  proprietorship.  "  No  tips  could  touch 
Henri,  no  indeed.  He's  not  that  sort  of  a  per- 
son." 

Again  the  hope  faded  from  Jimmy's  round  face. 

"  I  look  upon  Henri  as  my  friend,"  continued 
Alfred  enthusiastically.  "  He  speaks  every  lan- 
guage known  to  man.  He's  been  in  every  coun- 
try in  the  world.  Henri  understands  life." 

"  Lots  of  people  understand  life,"  commented 
Jimmy  dismally,  "  but  some  people  don't  appreci- 
ate it.  They  value  it  too  lightly,  to  my  way  of 
thinking." 

"  Ah,  but  you  have  something  to  live  for,"  ar- 
gued Alfred. 

"  I  have  indeed ;  a  great  deal,"  agreed  Jimmy, 
more  and  more  abused  at  the  thought  of  what 
he  was  about  to  lose. 

"  Ah,  that's  different,"  exclaimed  Alfred. 
"  But  what  have  I?  " 

Jimmy  was  in  no  frame  of  mind  to  consider 
his  young  friend's  assets ;  he  was  thinking  of  his 
own  difficulties. 

"  I'm  a  laughing  stock,"  shouted  Alfred.  "  I 
know  it.  A  *  good  thing '  who  gives  his  wife 
everything  she  asks  for,  while  she  is  running 


46  Baby   Mine 

around  with — with  my  best  friend,  for  all  I 
know." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  protested  Jimmy  nervously.  "  I 
wouldn't  say  that." 

"  Even  if  she  weren't  running  around,"  contin- 
ued Alfred  excitedly,  without  heeding  his  friend's 
interruption,  "  what  have  we  to  look  forward  to? 
What  have  we  to  look  backward  to  ?  " 

Again  Jimmy's  face  was  a  blank. 

Alfred  answered  his  own  question  by  lifting 
his  arms  tragically  toward  Heaven.  "  One  eter- 
nal round  of  wrangles  and  rows !  A  childless 
home !  Do  you  think  she  wants  babies  ?  "  he 
cried,  wheeling  about  on  Jimmy,  and  daring  him 
to  answer  in  the  affirmative.  "  Oh,  no ! "  he 
sneered.  "  All  she  wants  is  a  good  time." 

"  Well,"  mumbled  Jimmy,  "  I  can't  see  much 
in  babies  myself,  fat,  little,  red  worms." 

Alfred's  breath  went  from  him  in  astonishment. 

"Weren't  you  ever  a  fat,  little,  red  worm?" 

he  hissed.  "  Wasn't  7  ever  a  little,  fat,  red " 

he  paused  in  confusion,  as  his  ear  became  puzzled 
by  the  proper  sequence  of  his  adjectives,  "a  fat, 
red,  little  worm,"  he  stammered ;  "  and  see  what 
we  are  now !  '*  He  thrust  out  his  chest  and 
strutted  about  in  great  pride. 

"  Big  red  worms,"  admitted  Jimmy  gloomily. 

But  Alfred  did  not  hear  him.  "  You  and  I 
ought  to  have  sons  on  the  way  to  what  we  are," 
he  declared,  "  and  better." 


Baby   Mine  47 

"  Oh  yes,  better,"  agreed  Jimmy,  thinking  of 
his  present  plight.  "  Much  better." 

"  But  have  we?  "  demanded  Alfred. 

Jimmy  glanced  about  the  room,  as  though  ex- 
pecting an  answering  demonstration  from  the 
ceiling. 

"  Have  you?  "  persisted  Alfred. 

Jimmy  shook  his  head  solemnly. 

"  Have  I?  "  asked  the  irate  husband. 

Out  of  sheer  absent  mindedness  Jimmy  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

As  usual  Alfred  answered  his  own  question. 
"  Oh,  no !  "  he  raged.  "  You  have  a  wife  who 
spends  her  time  and  money  gadding  about 
with " 

Jimmy's  face  showed  a  new  alarm. 

" — my  wife,"  concluded  Alfred. 

Jimmy  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  have  a  wife,"  said  Alfred,  "  who  spends  her 
time  and  my  money  gadding  around  with  God 
knows  whom.  But  I'll  catch  him !  "  he  cried  with 
new  fury.  "  Here,"  he  said,  pulling  a  roll  of 
bills  from  his  pocket.  "  I'll  bet  you  I'll  catch 
him.  How  much  do  you  want  to  bet  ?  " 

Undesirous  of  offering  any  added  inducements 
toward  his  own  capture,  Jimmy  backed  away 
both  literally  and  figuratively  from  Alfred's  prop- 
osition. 

"What's  the  use  of  getting  so  excited?"  he 
asked. 


48  Baby    Mine 

Mistaking  Jimmy's  unwillingness  to  bet  for  a 
disinclination  to  take  advantage  of  a  friend's  reck- 
less mood,  Alfred  resented  the  implied  insult  to  his 
astuteness. 

"  You  think  I  can't  catch  him?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Let's  see  the  colour  of  your  money,"  he  de- 
manded. 

But  before  Jimmy  could  comply,  an  unexpected 
voice  broke  into  the  argument  and  brought  them 
both  round  with  a  start. 


CHAPTER    VII 

"  GOOD  Heavens,"  exclaimed  Aggie,  who  had 
entered  the  room  while  Alfred  was  talking  his 
loudest.  "  What  a  racket !  " 

Her  eyes  fell  upon  Jimmy  who  was  teetering 
about  uneasily  just  behind  Alfred.  She  stared 
at  him  in  amazement.  Was  it  possible  that 
Jimmy,  the  methodical,  had  left  his  office  at  this 
hour  of  the  morning,  and  for  what? 

Avoiding  the  question  in  Aggie's  eyes,  Jimmy 
pretended  to  be  searching  for  his  pocket  hand- 
kerchief— but  always  with  the  vision  of  Aggie  in 
her  new  Fall  gown  and  her  large  "  picture  "  hat 
at  his  elbow.  Never  before  had  she  appeared  so 
beautiful  to  him,  so  desirable — suppose  he  should 
lose  her?  Life  spread  before  him  as  a  dreary 
waste.  He  tried  to  look  up  at  her;  he  could  not. 
He  feared  she  would  read  his  guilt  in  his  eyes. 
"  What  guilt  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  There  was  no 
longer  any  denying  the  fact — a  secret  had  sprung 
up  between  them. 

Annoyed  at  receiving  no  greeting,  Aggie  con- 
tinued in  a  rather  hurt  voice: 

"  Aren't  you  two  going  to  speak  to  me?  " 

Alfred  swallowed  hard  in  an  effort  to  regain 
his  composure. 

49 


50  Baby   Mine 

"  Good-morning,"  he  said  curtly. 

Fully  convinced  of  a  disagreement  between  the 
two  old  friends,  Aggie  addressed  herself  in  a  re- 
proachful tone  to  Jimmy. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  what  are  you  doing 
here  this  time  of  day?  " 

Jimmy  felt  Alfred's  steely  eyes  upon  him. 
"Why!"  he  stammered.  "Why,  I  just  came 
over  to — bring  your  message." 

"  My  message  ?  "  repeated  Aggie  in  perplex- 
ity. "What  message?" 

Alfred's  eyebrows  drew  themselves  sharply  to- 
gether. 

Jimmy  had  told  so  many  lies  this  morning  that 
another  more  or  less  could  not  matter ;  moreover, 
this  was  not  a  time  to  hesitate. 

"  Why,  the  message  you  sent  to  Zoie,"  he  an- 
swered boldly. 

"  But  I  sent  no  message  to  Zoie,"  said  Ag- 
gie. 

"  What !  "  thundered  Alfred,  so  loud  that  Ag- 
gie's fingers  involuntarily  went  to  her  ears.  She 
was  more  and  more  puzzled  by  the  odd  behaviour 
of  the  two. 

"  I  mean  yesterday's  message,"  corrected 
Jimmy.  And  he  assumed  an  aggrieved  air  to- 
ward Aggie. 

"  You  villain,"  exclaimed  Aggie.  "  I  told  you 
to  'phone  her  yesterday  morning  from  the  office." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  agreed  Jimmy  placidly,  "  but  I 


Baby   Mine  51 

forgot  it  and  I  just  came  over  to  explain."  Al- 
fred's fixed  stare  was  relaxing  and  at  last  Jimmy 
could  breathe. 

"  Oh,"  murmured  Aggie,  with  a  wise  little  ele- 
vation of  her  eye-brows,  "  then  that's  why  Zoie 
didn't  keep  her  luncheon  appointment  with  me 
yesterday." 

Jimmy  felt  that  if  this  were  to  go  on  much 
longer,  he  would  utter  one  wild  shriek  and  give 
himself  up  for  lost;  but  at  present  he  merely 
swallowed  with  an  effort,  and  awaited  develop- 
ments. 

It  was  now  Alfred's  turn  to  become  excited. 

"  Oh,  is  it !  "  he  cried  with  hysterical  laugh- 
ter. 

Aggie  regarded  him  with  astonishment.  Was 
this  her  usually  self-controlled  friend? 

"  Oh,  no !  "  sneered  Alfred  with  unmistakable 
pity  for  her  credulity.  "  That's  not  why  my 
wife  didn't  eat  luncheon  with  you.  She  may  tell 
you  that's  why.  She  undoubtedly  will ;  but  it's 
not  why.  Oh,  no!"  and  running  his  hands 
through  his  hair,  Alfred  tore  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Aggie  asked 
in  amazement. 

"  Your  dear  husband  Jimmy  will  doubtless  ex- 
plain," answered  Alfred  with  a  slur  on  the 
"  dear."  Then  he  turned  toward  the  door  of  his 
study.  "  Pray  excuse  me — I'm  too  busy,"  and 


52  Baby   Mine 

with  that  he  strode  out  of  the  room  and  banged 
the  study  door  behind  him. 

"  Goodness  gracious ! "  gasped  Aggie.  She 
looked  after  Alfred,  then  at  Jimmy.  She  was  the 
picture  of  consternation.  "  What's  the  matter 
with  him  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Just  another  little  family  tiff,"  answered 
Jimmy,  trying  to  assume  a  nonchalant  manner. 

"  Not  about  you!  "  gasped  Aggie. 

"  Me !  "  cried  Jimmy,  his  equilibrium  again  up- 
set. "  Certainly  not !  "  he  declared.  "  What  an 
idea!" 

"Yes,  wasn't  it?"  answered  Aggie.  "That 
just  shows  how  silly  one  can  be.  I  almost 
thought  Alfred  was  going  to  say  that  Zoie  had 
lunched  with  you." 

"  Me?  "  again  echoed  Jimmy,  and  he  wondered 
if  everybody  in  the  world  had  conspired  to  make 
him  the  target  of  their  attention.  He  caught 
Aggie's  eye  and  tried  to  laugh  carelessly. 
"  That  would  have  been  funny,  wouldn't  it  ?  "  he 
said. 

"  Yes,  wouldn't  it,"  repeated  Aggie,  and  he 
thought  he  detected  a  slight  uneasiness  in  her 
voice. 

"  Speaking  of  lunch,"  added  Jimmy  quickly, 
"  I  think,  dearie,  that  I'll  come  home  for  lunch 
in  the  future." 

"  What? "  exclaimed  Aggie  in  great  amaze- 
ment. 


Baby   Mine  53 

"  Those  downtown  places  upset  my  digestion," 
explained  Jimmy  quickly. 

"  Isn't  this  very  sudden"  she  asked,  and  again 
Jimmy  fancied  that  there  was  a  shade  of  suspi- 
cion in  her  tone. 

His  face  assumed  a  martyred  expression. 
"  Of  course,  dear,"  he  said,  "  if  you  insist  upon 
my  eating  downtown,  I'll  do  it;  but  I  thought 
you'd  be  glad  to  have  me  at  home." 

Aggie  turned  to  him  with  real  concern. 
"  Why,  Jimmy,"  she  said,  "  what's  the  matter 
with  you?  "  She  took  a  step  toward  him  and 
anxiously  studied  his  face.  "  I  never  heard  you 
talk  like  that  before.  I  don't  think  you're  well." 

"That's  just  what  I'm  telling  you,"  insisted 
Jimmy  vehemently,  excited  beyond  all  reason  by 
receiving  even  this  small  bit  of  sympathy.  "  I'm 
ill,"  he  declared.  No  sooner  had  he  made  the 
declaration  than  he  began  to  believe  in  it.  His 
doleful  countenance  increased  Aggie's  alarm. 

"  My  angel-face,"  she  purred,  and  she  took  his 
chubby  cheeks  in  her  hands  and  looked  down  at 
him  fondly.  "  You  know  I  always  want  you  to 
come  home."  She  stooped  and  kissed  Jimmy's 
pouting  lips.  He  held  up  his  face  for  more. 
She  smoothed  the  hair  from  his  worried  brow 
and  endeavoured  to  cheer  him.  "  I'll  run  right 
home  now,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  cook  to  get  some- 
thing nice  and  tempting  for  you !  I  can  see  Zoie 
later." 


54  Baby    Mine 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  murmured  Jimmy,  as  he 
followed  her  toward  the  door  with  a  doleful  shake 
of  his  head.  "  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  en- 
joy my  luncheon  again — as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  Aggie,  "  come  along." 


CHAPTER    VIII 

WHEN  Alfred  returned  to  the  living  room  he 
was  followed  by  his  secretary,  who  carried  two 
well-filled  satchels.  His  temper  was  not  im- 
proved by  the  discovery  that  he  had  left  certain 
important  papers  at  his  office.  Dispatching  his 
man  to  get  them  and  to  meet  him  at  the  station 
with  them,  he  collected  a  few  remaining  letters 
from  the  drawer  of  the  writing  table,  then  uneasy 
at  remaining  longer  under  the  same  roof  with 
Zoie,  he  picked  up  his  hat,  and  started  to- 
ward the  hallway.  For  the  first  time  his 
eye  was  attracted  by  a  thick  layer  of  dust  and 
lint  on  his  coat  sleeve.  Worse  still,  there  was 
a  smudge  on  his  cuff.  If  there  was  one  thing 
more  than  another  that  Alfred  detested  it  was  un- 
tidiness. Putting  his  hat  down  with  a  bang,  he 
tried  to  flick  the  dust  from  his  sleeve  with  his 
pocket  handkerchief;  finding  this  impossible, 
he  removed  his  coat  and  began  to  shake  it  vio- 
lently. 

It  was  at  this  particular  moment  that  Zoie's 
small  face  appeared  cautiously  from  behind  the 
frame  of  the  bedroom  door.  She  was  quick  to 
perceive  Alfred's  plight.  Disappearing  from  view 
for  an  instant,  she  soon  reappeared  with  Al- 

55 


56  Baby    Mine 

fred's  favourite  clothes-brush.  She  tiptoed  into 
the  room. 

Barely  had  Alfred  drawn  his  coat  on  his  shoul- 
ders, when  he  was  startled  by  a  quick  little  flutter 
of  the  brush  on  his  sleeve.  He  turned  in  sur- 
prise and  beheld  Zoie,  who  looked  up  at  him  as 
penitent  and  irresistible  as  a  newly-punished 
child. 

"  Oh,"  snarled  Alfred,  and  he  glared  at  her  as 
though  he  would  enjoy  strangling  her  on  the  spot. 

"  Alfred,"  pouted  Zoie,  and  he  knew  she  was  go- 
ing to  add  her  customary  appeal  of  "  Let's  make 
up."  But  Alfred  was  in  no  mood  for  nonsense. 
He  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  made 
straight  for  the  outer  doorway. 

Smiling  to  herself  as  she  saw  him  leaving  with- 
out his  hat,  Zoie  slipped  it  quickly  beneath  a 
flounce  of  her  skirt.  No  sooner  had  Alfred  reached 
the  sill  of  the  door  than  his  hand  went  involun- 
tarily to  his  head ;  he  turned  to  the  table  where  he 
had  left  his  hat.  His  face  wore  a  puzzled  look. 
He  glanced  beneath  the  table,  in  the  chair,  behind 
the  table,  across  the  piano,  and  then  he  began  cir- 
cling the  room  with  pent  up  rage.  He  dashed  into 
his  study  and  out  again,  he  threw  the  chairs  about 
with  increasing  irritation,  then  giving  up  the 
search,  he  started  hatless  toward  the  hallway. 
It  was  then  that  a  soft  babyish  voice  reached  his 
ear. 

"  Have  you  lost  something,  dear?  "  cooed  Zoie. 


Baby    Mine  57 

Alfred  hesitated.  It  was  difficult  to  lower  his 
dignity  by  answering  her,  but  he  needed  his  head- 
gear. "  I  want  my  hat,"  he  admitted  shortly. 

"  Your  hat  ?  "  repeated  Zoie  innocently  and  she 
glanced  around  the  room  with  mild  interest. 
"  Maybe  Mary  took  it." 

"  Mary !  "  cried  Alfred,  and  thinking  the  mys- 
tery solved,  he  dashed  toward  the  inner  hallway. 

"  Let  me  get  it,  dear,"  pleaded  Zoie,  and  she 
laid  a  small  detaining  hand  upon  his  arm  as  he 
passed. 

"  Stop  it ! "  commanded  Alfred  hotly,  and  he 
shook  the  small  hand  from  his  sleeve  as  though  it 
had  been  something  poisonous. 

"  But  Allie,"  protested  Zoie,  pretending  to  be 
shocked  and  grieved. 

"Don't  you  'but  Allie5  me,"  cried  Alfred, 
turning  upon  her  sharply.  "  All  I  want  is  my 
hat,"  and  again  he  started  in  search  of  Mary. 

"  But — but — but  Allie,"  stammered  Zoie,  as 
she  followed  him. 

"  But — but — but,"  repeated  Alfred,  turning  on 
her  in  a  fury.  "  You've  butted  me  out  of  every- 
thing that  I  wanted  all  my  life,  but  you're  not 
going  to  do  it  again." 

"  You  see,  you  said  it  yourself,"  laughed  Zoie. 

"  Said  what?  "  roared  Alfred. 

"  But,"  tittered  Zoie. 

The  remnants  of  Alfred's  self-control  were  for- 
saking him.  He  clinched  his  fists  hard  in  a  final 


58  Baby    Mine 

effort  toward  restraint.  "  You'd  just  as  well 
stop  all  these  baby  tricks,"  he  threatened  between 
his  teeth,  "  they're  not  going  to  work.  This 
time  my  mind  is  made  up." 

"  Then  why  are  you  afraid  to  talk  to  me?  " 
asked  Zoie  sweetly. 

"Who  said  I  was  afraid?"  demanded  Alfred 
hotly. 

"  You  act  like  it,"  declared  Zoie,  with  some 

truth  on  her  side.  "  You  don't  want "  she 

got  no  further. 

"  All  I  want,"  interrupted  Alfred,  "  is  to  get 
out  of  this  house  once  and  for  all  and  to  stay  out 
of  it."  And  again  he  started  in  pursuit  of  his 
hat. 

"  Why,  Allie,"  she  gazed  at  him  with  deep  re- 
proach. "  You  liked  this  place  so  much  when 
we  first  came  here." 

Again  Alfred  picked  at  the  lint  on  his  coat 
sleeve.  Edging  her  way  toward  him  cautiously 
she  ventured  to  touch  his  sleeve  with  the  brush. 

"  I'll  attend  to  that  myself,"  he  said  curtly, 
and  he  sank  into  the  nearest  chair  to  tie  a  re- 
fractory shoe  lace. 

"  Let  me  brush  you,  dear,"  pleaded  Zoie.  "  I 
don't  wish  you  to  start  out  in  the  world  looking 
unbrushed,"  she  pouted.  Then  with  a  sly  em- 
phasis she  added  teasingly,  "  The  other  women 
might  not  admire  you  that  way." 

Alfred  broke  his  shoe  string  then  and  there. 


Baby    Mine  59 

While  he  stooped  to  tie  a  knot  in  it,  Zoie  man- 
aged to  perch  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  You  know,  Allie,"  she  continued  coaxingly, 
"  no  one  could  ever  love  you  as  I  do." 

Again  Alfred  broke  his  shoe  lace. 

"  Oh,  Allie!  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  little  ripple 
of  childish  laughter,  "  do  you  remember  how  ab- 
surdly poor  we  were  when  we  were  first  married, 
and  how  you  refused  to  take  any  help  from  your 
family?  And  do  you  remember  that  silly  old 
pair  of  black  trousers  that  used  to  get  so  thin  on 
the  knees  and  how  I  used  to  put  shoe-blacking  un- 
derneath so  the  white  wouldn't  show  through?  " 
By  this  time  her  arm  managed  to  get  around  his 
neck. 

"  Stop  it !  "  shrieked  Alfred  as  though  mortal 
man  could  endure  no  more.  "  You've  used  those 
trousers  to  settle  every  crisis  in  our  lives." 

Zoie  gazed  at  him  without  daring  to  breathe; 
even  she  was  aghast  at  his  fury,  but  only  tempo- 
rarily. She  recovered  herself  and  continued 
sweetly : 

"  If  everything  is  settled,"  she  argued, 
"where's  the  harm  in  talking?  " 

"  We've  done  with  talking,"  declared  Alfred. 
"  From  this  on,  I  act."  And  determined  not  to 
be  cheated  out  of  this  final  decision,  he  again 
started  for  the  hall  door. 

"  Oh,  Allie ! "  cried  Zoie  in  a  tone  of  sharp 
alarm. 


60  Baby   Mine 

In  spite  of  himself  Alfred  turned  to  learn  the 
cause  of  her  anxiety. 

"  You  haven't  got  your  overshoes  on,"  she 
said. 

Speechless  with  rage,  Alfred  continued  on  his 
way,  but  Zoie  moved  before  him  swiftly.  "  I'll 
get  them  for  you,  dear,"  she  volunteered  gra- 
ciously. 

"  Stop !  "  thundered  Alfred.  They  were  now 
face  to  face. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  roar  like  that,"  pouted 
Zoie,  and  the  pink  tips  of  her  fingers  were  thrust 
tight  against  her  ears. 

Alfred  drew  in  his  breath  and  endeavoured  for 
the  last  time  to  repress  his  indignation.  "  Either 
you  can't,  or  you  won't  understand  that  it  is  ex- 
tremely unpleasant  for  me  to  even  talk  to  you — 
much  less  to  receive  your  attentions." 

"  Very  likely,"  answered  Zoie,  unperturbed. 
"  But  so  long  as  I  am  your  lawful  wedded 

wife "  she  emphasised  the  "lawful" — "I 

shan't  let  any  harm  come  to  you,  if  I  can  help  it." 
She  lifted  her  eyes  to  heaven  bidding  it  to  bear 
witness  to  her  martyrdom  and  looking  for  all 
the  world  like  a  stained  glass  saint. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  shouted  Alfred,  almost  hysterical  at 
his  apparent  failure  to  make  himself  understood. 
"  You  wouldn't  let  any  harm  come  to  me.  Oh,  no. 
You've  only  made  me  the  greatest  joke  in  Chi- 
cago," he  shouted.  "  You've  only  made  me  such 


Baby    Mine  61 

a  laughing  stock  that  I  have  to  leave  it.  That's 
all— that's  all !  " 

"  Leave  Chicago ! "  exclaimed  Zoie  incredu- 
lously. Then  regaining  her  self-composure,  she 
edged  her  way  close  to  him  and  looked  up  into 
his  eyes  in  baby-like  wonderment.  "  Why,  Allie, 
where  are  we  going?  "  Her  small  arm  crept  up 
toward  his  shoulder.  Alfred  pushed  it  from  him 
rudely. 

"  We  are  not  going,"  he  asserted  in  a  firm, 
measured  voice.  "  7  am  going.  Where's  my 
hat?  "  And  again  he  started  in  search  of  his 
absent  headgear. 

"  Oh,  Allie !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  this  time  there 
was  genuine  alarm  in  her  voice,  "  you  wouldn't 
leave  me?  " 

"Wouldn't  I,  though?"  sneered  Alfred.  Be- 
fore he  knew  it,  Zoie's  arms  were  about  him — she 
was  pleading  desperately. 

"  Now  see  here,  Allie,  you  may  call  me  all  the 
names  you  like,"  she  cried  with  great  self-abase- 
ment, "  but  you  shan't — you  shan't  go  away  from 
Chicago." 

"  Oh,  indeed? "  answered  Alfred  as  he  shook 
himself  free  of  her.  "  I  suppose  you'd  like  me  to 
go  on  witli  this  cat  and  dog  existence.  You'd  like 
me  to  stay  right  here  and  pay  the  bills  and  take 
care  of  you,  while  you  flirt  with  every  Tom,  Dick 
and  Harry  in  town." 

"  It's  only  your  horrid  disposition  that  makes 


62  Baby    Mine 

you  talk  like  that,"  whimpered  Zoie.  "  You 
know  very  well  that  I  never  cared  for  anybody 
but  you." 

"  Until  you  got  me,  yes,"  assented  Alfred, 
"  and  now  you  care  far  everybody  but  me." 
She  was  about  to  object,  but  he  continued 
quickly.  "  Where  you  meet  your  gentlemen 
friends  is  beyond  me.  I  don't  introduce  them  to 
you." 

"  I  should  say  not,"  agreed  Zoie,  and  there  was 
a  touch  of  vindictiveness  in  her  voice.  "  The 
only  male  creature  that  you  ever  introduced  to 
me  was  the  family  dog." 

"  I  introduce  every  man  who's  fit  to  meet  you," 
declared  Alfred  with  an  air  of  great  pride. 

"  That  doesn't  speak  very  well  for  your  ac- 
quaintances," snipped  Zoie.  Even  her  temper 
was  beginning  to  assert  itself. 

"  I  won't  bicker  like  this,"  declared  Alfred. 

"  That's  what  you  always  say,  when  you  can't 
think  of  an  answer,"  retorted  Zoie. 

"  You  mean  when  I'm  tired  of  answering  your 
nonsense !  "  thundered  Alfred. 


CHAPTER     IX 

REALISING  that  she  was  rapidly  losing  ground 
by  exercising  her  advantage  over  Alfred  in  the 
matter  of  quick  retort,  Zoie,  with  her  cus- 
tomary cunning,  veered  round  to  a  more  concil- 
iatory tone.  "  Well,"  she  cooed,  "  suppose  I  did 
eat  lunch  with  a  man  ?  " 

"  Ah ! "  shrieked  Alfred,  as  though  he  had  at 
last  run  his  victim  to  earth. 

She  retreated  with  her  finders  crossed.  "  I 
only  said  suppose,"  she  reminded  him  quickly. 
Then  she  continued  in  a  tone  meant  to  draw  from 
him  his  heart's  most  secret  confidence.  "  Didn't 
you  ever  eat  lunch  with  any  woman  but  me?  " 

"  Never !  "  answered  Alfred  firmly. 

There  was  an  unmistakable  expression  of 
pleasure  on  Zoie's  small  face,  but  she  forced  back 
the  smile  that  was  trying  to  creep  round  her  lips, 
and  sidled  toward  Alfred,  with  eyes  properly 
downcast.  "  Then  I'm  very  sorry  I  did  it,"  she 
said  solemnly,  "  and  I'll  never  do  it  again." 

"  So !  "  cried  Alfred  with  renewed  indignation. 
"You  admit  it?" 

"  Just  to  please  you,  dear,"  explained  Zoie 
sweetly,  as  though  she  were  doing  him  the  great- 
est possible  favour. 

63 


64  Baby    Mine 

"To  please  me?"  gasped  Alfred.  "Do  you 
suppose  it  pleases  me  to  know  that  you  are  car- 
rying on  the  moment  my  back  is  turned,  making 
a  fool  of  me  to  my  friends?  " 

"  Your  friends  ? "  cried  Zoie  with  a  sneer. 
This  time  it  was  her  turn  to  be  angry.  "  So ! 
It's  your  friends  that  are  worrying  you ! "  In 
her  excitement  she  tossed  Alfred's  now  damaged 
hat  into  the  chair  just  behind  her.  He  was  far 
too  overwrought  to  see  it.  "  I  haven't  done  you 
any  harm,"  she  continued  wildly.  "  It's  only 
what  you  think  your  friends  think." 

"  You  haven't  done  me  any  harm?  "  repeated 
Alfred,  in  her  same  tragic  key,  "  Oh  no !  Oh  no ! 
You've  only  cheated  me  out  of  everything  I  ex- 
pected to  get  out  of  life !  That's  all !  " 

Zoie  came  to  a  full  stop  and  waited  for  him 
to  enumerate  the  various  treasures  that  he  had 
lost  by  marrying  her.  He  did  so. 

"  Before  we  were  married,"  he  continued,  "  you 
pretended  to  adore  children.  You  started  your 
humbugging  the  first  day  I  met  you.  I  refer  to 
little  Willie  Peck." 

A  hysterical  giggle  very  nearly  betrayed  her. 
Alfred  continued: 

"  I  was  fool  enough  to  let  you  know  that  I  ad- 
mire women  who  like  children.  From  that  day 
until  the  hour  that  I  led  you  to  the  altar,  you'd 
fondle  the  ugliest  little  brats  that  we  met  in  the 
street,  but  the  moment  you  got  me 


Baby    Mine  6$ 

"  Alfred !  "  gasped  Zoie.  This  was  realty  go- 
ing too  far. 

"  Yes,  I  repeat  it!"  shouted  Alfred,  pounding 
the  table  with  his  fist  for  emphasis.  "  The  mo- 
ment you  got  me,  you  declared  that  all  children 
were  horrid  little  insects,  and  that  someone 
ought  to  sprinkle  bug-powder  on  them." 

"  Ohi  "  protested  Zoie,  shocked  less  by  Alfred's 
interpretation  of  her  sentiments,  than  by  the  vul- 
garity with  which  he  expressed  them. 

"  On  another  occasion,"  declared  Alfred,  now 
carried  away  by  the  recital  of  his  long  pent  up 
wrongs,  "  you  told  me  that  all  babies  should 
be  put  in  cages,  shipped  West,  and  kept  in  pens 
until  they  got  to  be  of  an  interesting  age.  '  In- 
teresting age!'  he  repeated  with  a  sneer, 
"  meaning  old  enough  to  take  you  out  to  lunch- 
eon, I  suppose." 

"  I  never  said  any  such  thing,"  objected  Zoie. 

"  Well,  that  was  the  idea,"  insisted  Alfred. 
"  I  haven't  your  glib  way  of  expressing  myself." 

"  You  manage  to  express  yourself  very  well," 
retorted  Zoie.  "  When  you  have  anything  dis- 
agreeable to  say.  As  for  babies,"  she  continued 
tentatively,  "  I  think  they  are  all  very  well  in  their 
place,  but  they  were  never  meant  for  an  apart- 
ment." 

"  I  offered  you  a  house  in  the  country," 
shouted  Alfred. 

"  The    country !  "   echoed   Zoie.     "  How    could 


66  Baby   Mine 

I  live  in  the  country,  with  people  being  murdered 
in  their  beds  every  night?  Read  the  papers." 

"  Always  an  excuse,"  sighed  Alfred  resignedly. 
"  There  always  has  been  and  there  always  would 
be  if  I'd  stay  to  listen.  Well,  for  once,"  he  de- 
clared, "  I'm  glad  "that  we  have  no  children.  If 
we  had,  I  might  feel  some  obligation  to  keep  up 
this  farce  of  a  marriage.  As  it  is,"  he  contin- 
ued, "  you  are  free  and  /  am  free."  And  with  a 
courtly  wave  of  his  arm,  he  dismissed  Zoie  and 
the  entire  subject,  and  again  he  started  in  pur- 
suit of  Mary  and  his  hat. 

"  If  it's  your  freedom  you  wish,"  pouted  Zoie 
with  an  abused  air,  "  you  might  have  said  so  in 
the  first  place." 

Alfred  stopped  in  sheer  amazement  at  the  clev- 
erness with  which  the  little  minx  turned  his  every 
statement  against  him. 

"  It's  not  very  manly  of  you,"  she  continued, 
"  to  abuse  me  just  because  you've  found  someone 
whom  you  like  better." 

"  That's  not  true,"  protested  Alfred  hotly, 
"  and  you  know  it's  not  true."  Little  did  he  sus- 
pect the  trap  into  which  she  was  leading  him. 

*'  Then  you  don't  love  anybody  more  than  you 
do  me?  "  she  cried  eagerly,  and  she  gazed  up  at 
him  with  adoring  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  say  any  such  thing,"  hedged  Alfred. 

"  Then  you  do,"  she  accused  him. 

"  I  don't,"  he  declared  in  self  defence. 


Baby    Mine  67 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  she  sprang  into  his  arms, 
clasped  her  fingers  tightly  behind  his  neck,  and 
rained  impulsive  kisses  upon  his  unsuspecting1 
face. 

For  an  instant,  Alfred  looked  down  at  Zoie, 
undecided  whether  to  strangle  her  or  to  re- 
turn her  embraces.  As  usual,  his  self-respect 
won  the  day  for  him  and,  with  a  determined  effort, 
he  lifted  her  high  in  the  air,  so  that  she  lost  her 
tenacious  hold  of  him,  and  sat  her  down  with  a 
thud  in  the  very  same  chair  in  which  she  had 
lately  dropped  his  hat.  Having  acted  with  this 
admirable  resolution,  he  strode  majestically  to- 
ward the  inner  hall,  but  before  he  could  reach  it, 
Zoie  was  again  on  her  feet,  in  a  last  vain  effort 
to  conciliate  him.  Turning,  Alfred  caught 
sight  of  his  poor  battered  hat.  This  was  the 
final  spur  to  action.  Snatching  it  up  with  one 
hand,  and  throwing  his  latchkey  on  the  table 
with  the  other,  he  made  determinedly  for  the 
outer  door. 

Screaming  hysterically,  Zoie  caught  him  just 
as  he  reached  the  threshold  and  threw  the  whole 
weight  of  her  body  upon  him. 

"  Alfred,"  she  pleaded,  "  if  you  really  love  me, 
you  can't  leave  me  like  this !  "  Her  emotion  was 
now  genuine.  He  looked  down  at  her  gravely — 
then  into  the  future. 

"  There  are  other  things  more  important  than 
what  you  call  *  love,' "  he  said,  very  solemnly. 


68  Baby    Mine 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  soul,  if  you  only  knew 
it.  And  you  have  hurt  mine  through  and 
through." 

"  But  how,  Alfred,  how?  "  asked  the  small  per- 
son, and  there  was  a  frown  of  genuine  perplexity 
on  her  tiny  puckered  brow.  "  What  have  I 
really  done?  "  She  stroked  his  hand  fondly ;  her 
baby  eyes  searched  his  face. 

"  It  isn't  so  much  what  people  do  to  us  that 
counts,"  answered  Alfred  in  a  proud  hurt  voice. 
"  It's  how  much  they  disappoint  us  in  what  they 
do.  I  expected  better  of  you"  he  said  sadly. 

"  I'll  do  better,"  coaxed  Zoie,  "  if  you'll  only 
give  me  a  chance." 

He  was  half  inclined  to  believe  her. 

"  Now,  Allie,"  she  pleaded,  perceiving  that  his 
resentment  was  dying  and  resolved  to,  at  last, 
adopt  a  straight  course,  "  if  you'll  only  listen, 
I'll  tell  you  the  real  truth." 

Unprepared  for  the  electrical  effect  of  her  re- 
mark, Zoie  found  herself  staggering  to  keep  her 
feet.  She  gazed  at  Alfred  in  amazement.  His 
arms  were  lifted  to  Heaven,  his  breath  was  coming 
fast. 

"  *  The  real  truth!  '  "  he  gasped,  then  bringing 
his  crushed  hat  down  on  his  forehead  with  a  re- 
sounding whack,  he  rushed  from  her  sight. 

The  clang  of  the  closing  elevator  door  brought 
Zoie  to  a  realisation  of  what  had  actually  hap- 
pened. Determined  that  Alfred  should  not  es- 


Baby    Mine  69 

cape  her  she  rushed  to  the  hall  door  and  called  to 
him  wildly.  There  was  no  answer.  Running 
back  to  the  room,  she  threw  open  the  window  and 
threw  herself  half  out  of  it.  She  was  just  in  time 
to  see  Alfred  climb  into  a  passing  taxi.  "  Al- 
fred !  "  she  cried.  Then  automatically  she  flew 
to  the  'phone.  "  Give  me  4302  Main,"  she  called 
and  she  tried  to  force  back  her  tears.  "  Is  this 
Hardy  &  Company?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  this  is  Mrs.  Hardy,"  she  explained. 
"  I  wish  you'd  ring  me  up  the  moment  my  hus- 
band comes  in."  There  was  a  slight  pause,  then 
she  clutched  the  receiver  harder.  "  Not  coming 
back?"  she  gasped.  "Gone! — to  Detroit?" 
A  short  moan  escaped  her  lips.  She  let  the  re- 
ceiver fall  back  on  the  hook  and  her  head  went 
forward  on  her  outstretched  arms. 


CHAPTER     X 

WHEN  Jimmy  came  home  to  luncheon  that  day, 
Aggie  succeeded  in  getting  a  general  idea  of  the 
state  of  affairs  in  the  Hardy  household.  Of 
course  Jimmy  didn't  tell  the  whole  truth.  Oh, 
no — far  from  it.  In  fact,  he  appeared  to  be  ag- 
gravatingly  ignorant  as  to  the  exact  cause  of 
the  Hardy  upheaval.  Of  one  thing,  however,  he 
was  certain.  "  Alfred  was  going  to  quit  Chicago 
and  leave  Zoie  to  her  own  devices." 

"  Jimmy !  "  cried  Aggie.  "  How  awful !  "  and 
before  Jimmy  was  fairly  out  of  the  front  gate, 
she  had  seized  her  hat  and  gloves  and  rushed  to 
the  rescue  of  her  friend. 

Not  surprised  at  finding  Zoie  in  a  state  of  col- 
lapse, Aggie  opened  her  arms  sympathetically  to 
receive  the  weeping  confidences  that  she  was  sure 
would  soon  come. 

"  Zoie  dear,"  she  said  as  the  fragile  mite 
rocked  to  and  fro.  "  What  is  it?  "  She  pressed 
the  soft  ringlets  from  the  girl's  throbbing  fore- 
head. 

"It's  Alfred,"  sobbed  Zoie.     "He's   gone!" 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Aggie  tenderly. 
"Isn't  it  awful?  Jimmy  just  told  me." 

"  Jimmy  told  you  what?  "  questioned  Zoie,  and 
70 


Baby    Mine  71 

she  lifted  her  head  and  regarded  Aggie  with  sud- 
den uneasiness.  Her  friend's  answer  raised 
Jimmy  considerably  in  Zoie's  esteem.  Appar- 
ently he  had  not  breathed  a  word  about  the 
luncheon. 

"  Why,  Jimmy  told  me,"  continued  Aggie, 
"  that  you  and  Alfred  had  had  another  tiff,  and 
that  Alfred  had  gone  for  good." 

"  For  good!  "  echoed  Zoie  and  her  eyes  were 
wide  with  terror.  "  Did  Alfred  tell  Jimmy 
that?" 

Aggie  nodded. 

"  Then  he  means  it !  "  cried  Zoie,  at  last  fully 
convinced  of  the  strength  of  Alfred's  resolve. 
"  But  he  shan't,"  she  declared  emphatically.  "  I 
won't  let  him.  I'll  go  after  him.  He  has  no 
right "  By  this  time  she  was  running  aim- 
lessly about  the  room. 

"What  did  you  do  to  him?"  asked  Aggie, 
feeling  sure  that  Zoie  was  as  usual  at  fault. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Zoie  with  wide  innocent 
eyes. 

"  Nothing? "  echoed  Aggie,  with  little  con- 
fidence in  her  friend's  ability  to  judge  impartially 
about  so  personal  a  matter. 

"  Absolutely  nothing,"  affirmed  Zoie.  And 
there  was  no  doubting  that  she  at  least  believed  it. 

"  What  does  he  say?  "  questioned  Aggie  diplo- 
matically. 

"  He  says  I  '  hurt  his   soul.'     Whatever   that 


72  Baby   Mine 

is,"  answered  Zoie,  and  her  face  wore  an  injured 
expression.  "  Isn't  that  a  nice  excuse,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  for  leaving  your  lawful  wedded  wife  ?  " 
It  was  apparent  that  she  expected  Aggie  to  rally 
strongly  to  her  defence.  But  at  present  Aggie 
was  bent  upon  getting  facts. 

"  How  did  you  hurt  him?"  she  persisted. 

"  I  ate  lunch,"  said  Zoie  with  the  face  of  a 
cherub. 

"With  whom?"  questioned  Aggie  slyly.  She 
was  beginning  to  scent  the  probable  origin  of  the 
misunderstanding. 

"  It's  of  no  consequence,"  answered  Zoie  care- 
lessly ;  "  I  wouldn't  have  wiped  my  feet  on  the 
man."  By  this  time  she  had  entirely  forgotten 
Aggie's  proprietorship  in  the  source  of  her  trou- 
ble. 

"  But  who  was  the  man?  "  urged  Aggie,  and  in 
her  mind,  she  had  already  condemned  him  as  a 
low,  unprincipled  creature. 

"  What  does  that  matter?  "  asked  Zoie  impa- 
tiently. "  It's  any  man  with  Alfred — you  know 
that — any  man !  " 

Aggie  sank  in  a  chair  and  looked  at  her  friend 
in  despair.  "  Why  do  you  do  these  things,"  she 
said  wearily,  "  when  you  know  how  Alfred  feels 
about  them?  " 

"  You  talk  as  though  I  did  nothing  else,"  an- 
swered Zoie  with  an  aggrieved  tone.  "  It's  the 
first  time  since  I've  been  married  that  I've  ever 


Baby   Mine  73 

eaten  lunch  with  any  man  but  Alfred.  I  thought 
you'd  have  a  little  sympathy  with  me,"  she  whim- 
pered, "  instead  of  putting  me  on  the  gridiron 
like  everyone  else  does." 

"Everyone  else?"  questioned  Aggie,  with  re- 
curring suspicion. 

"  I  mean  Alfred,"  explained  Zoie.  "  He'* 
1  everyone  else  '  to  me."  And  then  with  a  sud- 
den abandonment  of  grief,  she  threw  herself  pros- 
trate at  her  friend's  knees.  "  Oh,  Aggie,  what 
can  I  do  ?  "  she  cried. 

But  Aggie  was  not  satisfied  with  Zoie's  frag- 
mentary account  of  her  latest  escapade.  "  Is 
that  the  only  thing  that  Alfred  has  against 
you?  "  she  asked. 

"  That's  the  latest,"  sniffled  Zoie,  in  a  heap  at 
Aggie's  feet.  And  then  she  continued  in  a  nv.ch 
aggrieved  tone,  "  You  know  he',  always  rowing 
because  we  haven't  as  many  baoies  as  the  cook 
has  cats." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  get  him  a  baby?  "  asked 
the  practical,  far-seeing  Aggie. 

"  It's  too  late  now"  moaned  Zoie. 

"  Not  at  all,"  reassured  Aggio.  "  It's  the  very 
thing  that  would  bring  him  back." 

"How  could  I  get  one?"  questioned  Zoie,  and 
she  looked  up  at  Aggie  with  round  astonished 
eyes. 

"  Adopt  it,"  answered  Aggie  decisively. 

Zoie  regarded  her  friend  with  mingled  disgust 


74  Baby  Mine 

and  disappointment.  "  No,"  she  said  with  a  sigh 
and  a  shake  of  her  head,  "  that  wouldn't  do  any 
good.  Alfred's  so  fussy.  He  always  wants  his 
owji  things  around." 

"  He  needn't  know,"  declared  Aggie  boldly. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  whispered  Zoie. 

Drawing  herself  up  with  an  air  of  great  im- 
portance, and  regarding  the  wondering  young 
person  at  her  knee  with  smiling  condescension, 
Aggie  prepared  to  make  a  most  interesting  dis- 
closure. 

"  There  was  a  long  article  in  the  paper  only 
this  morning,"  she  told  Zoie,  "  saying  that  three 
thousand  husbands  in  this  very  city  are  fondling 
babies  not  their  own." 

Zoie  turned  her  small  head  to  one  side,  the 
better  to  study  Aggie's  face.  It  was  appar- 
ent to  the  latter  that  she  must  be  much  more  ex- 
plicit. 

"  Babies  adopted  in  their  absence,"  explained 
Aggie,  "  while  they  were  on  trips  around  the 
country." 

A  dangerous  light  began  to  glitter  in  Zoie's 
eyes. 

"  Aggie ! "  she  cried,  bringing  her  small  hands 
together  excitedly,  "  do  you  think  I  could?  " 

"Why  not?"  asked  Aggie,  with  a  very  su- 
perior air.  Zoie's  enthusiasm  was  increasing  her 
friend's  admiration  of  her  own  scheme.  "  This 
same  paper  tells  of  a  woman  who  adopted  three 


Baby    Mine  75 

sons  while  her  husband  was  in  Europe,  and  he 
thinks  each  one  of  them  is  his." 

"Where  can  we  get  some?"  cried  Zoie,  now 
thoroughly  enamoured  of  the  idea. 

"  You  can  always  get  tons  of  them  at  the  Chil- 
dren's Home,"  answered  Aggie  confidently. 

"  I  can't  endure  babies,"  declared  Zoie,  "  but 
I'd  do  anything  to  get  Alfred  back.  Can  we  get 
one  to-day?  "  she  asked. 

Aggie  looked  at  her  small  friend  with  positive 
pity.  "  You  don't  want  one  to-day,"  she  ex- 
plained. 

Zoie  rolled  her  large  eyes  inquiringly. 

"  If  you  were  to  get  one  to-day,"  continued 
Aggie,  "  Alfred  would  know  it  wasn't  yours, 
wouldn't  he?  " 

A  light  of  understanding  began  to  show  on 
Zoie's  small  features. 

"  There  was  none  when  he  left  this  morning," 
added  Aggie. 

"  That's  true,"  acquiesced  Zoie. 

"  You  must  wait  awhile,"  counselled  Aggie, 
"  and  then  get  a  perfectly  new  one." 

But  Zoie  had  never  been  taught  to  wait. 

"  Now  Aggie "  she  began. 

Aggie  continued  without  heeding  her. 

"  After  a  few  months,"  she  explained,  "  when 
Alfred's  temper  has  had  time  to  cool,  we'll  get 
Jimmy  to  send  him  a  wire  that  he  has  an  heir." 

"  A  few  months !  "  exclaimed  Zoie,  as  though 


76  Baby  Mine 

Aggie  had  suggested  an  eternity.  "  I've  never 
been  away  from  Alfred  that  long  in  all  my  life." 

Aggie  was  visibly  annoyed.  "  Well,  of 
course,"  she  said  coldly,  as  she  rose  to  go,  "  if 
you  can  get  Alfred  back  without  that " 

"  But  I  can't !  "  cried  Zoie,  and  she  clung  to 
her  friend  as  to  her  last  remaining  hope. 

"  Then,"  answered  Aggie,  somewhat  mollified 
by  Zcrie's  complete  submission.  "  This  is  the 
only  way.  The  President  of  the  Children's  Home 
is  a  great  friend  of  Jimmy's,"  she  said  proudly. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Zoie  made  her  first 
practical  suggestion.  "  Then  we'll  let  Jimmy 
get  it,"  she  declared. 

"  Of  course,"  agreed  Aggie  enthusiastically,  as 
though  they  would  be  according  the  poor  soul  a 
rare  privilege.  "  Jimmy  gives  a  hundred  dollars 
to  the  Home  every  Christmas," — additional  proof 
why  he  should  be  selected  for  this  very  impor- 
tant office. 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Zoie  with  shocked 
surprise.  "  If  Alfred  were  to  give  a  hundred  dol- 
lars to  a  Baby's  Home,  I  should  suspect  him." 

"  Don't  be  silly !  "  snapped  Aggie  curtly.  In 
spite  of  her  firm  faith  in  Jimmy's  innocence,  she 
was  undoubtedly  annoyed  by  Zoie's  unpleas- 
ant suggestion. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  then  putting  dis- 
agreeable thoughts  from  her  mind,  Aggie  turned 
to  Zoie  with  renewed  enthusiasm. 


Baby    Mine  77 

"  We  must  get  down  to  business,"  she  said, 
"  we'll  begin  on  the  baby's  outfit  at  once." 

"It's  what?"  queried  Zoie. 

"  It's  clothes,"  explained  Aggie. 

"  Oh,  what  fun ! "  exclaimed  Zoie,  and  she 
clapped  her  hands  merrily  like  a  very  small 
child.  A  moment  later  she  stopped  with  sudden 
misgiving. 

"  But,  Aggie,"  she  said  fearfully,  "  suppose 
Alfred  shouldn't  come  back  after  I've  got  the 
baby?  I'd  be  a  widow  with  a  child." 

"  Oh,  he's  sure  to  come  back !  "  answered  Ag- 
gie, with  a  confident  air.  "  He'll  take  the  first 
train,  home." 

"  I  believe  he  will,"  assented  Zoie  joyfully. 
All  her  clouds  were  again  dispelled.  "  Aggie," 
she  cried  impulsively,  "  you  are  a  darling. 
You  have  just  saved  my  life."  And  she  clasped 
her  arms  so  tightly  around  Aggie's  neck  that  her 
friend  was  in  danger  of  being  suffocated. 

Releasing  herself  Aggie  continued  with  a  ruf- 
fled collar  and  raised  vanity :  "  You  can  write  him 
an  insinuating  letter  now  and  then,  just  to  lead 
up  to  the  good  news  gradually." 

Zoie  tipped  her  small  head  to  one  side  and 
studied  her  friend  thoughtfully.  "  Do  you 
know,  Aggie,"  she  said,  with  frank  admiration,  "  I 
believe  you  are  a  better  liar  than  I  am." 

"  I'm  not  a  liar,"  objected  Aggie  vehemently, 
"  at  least,  not  often,"  she  corrected.  "  I've 


78  Baby  Mine 

never  lied  to  Jimmy  in  all  my  life."  She  drew 
herself  up  with  conscious  pride.  "  And  Jimmy 
has  never  lied  to  me." 

"  Isn't  that  nice,"  sniffed  Zoie  and  she  pre- 
tended to  be  searching  for  her  pocket-handker- 
chief. 

But  Aggie  did  not  see  her.  She  was  glancing 
at  the  clock. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said.  And  she  started 
toward  the  door. 

"But,  Aggie "  protested  Zoie,  unwilling  to 

be  left  alone. 

"  I'll  run  in  again  at  tea  time,"  promised  Ag- 
gie. 

"  I  don't  mind  the  days"  whined  Zoie,  "  but 
when  night  comes  I  just  must  have  somebody's 
arms  around  me." 

"  Zoie ! "  gasped  Aggie,  both  shocked  and 
alarmed. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  confessed  Zoie ;  "  the  moment 
it  gets  dark  I'm  just  scared  stiff." 

"  That's  no  way  for  a  mother  to  talk,"  re- 
proved Aggie. 

"  A  mother !  "  exclaimed  Zoie,  horrified  at  the 
sudden  realisation  that  this  awful  appellation 
would  undoubtedly  pursue  her  for  the  rest  of  her 
life.  "Oh,  don't  call  me  that,"  she  pleaded. 
"  You  make  me  feel  a  thousand  years  old." 

"  Nonsense,"  laughed  Aggie,  and  before  Zoie 
could  again  detain  her  she  was  out  of  the  room. 


Baby    Mine  79 

When  the  outside  door  had  closed  behind  her 
friend,  Zoie  gazed  about  the  room  disconsolately, 
but  her  depression  was  short-lived.  Remember- 
ing Aggie's  permission  about  the  letter,  she  ran 
quickly  to  the  writing  table,  curled  her  small  self 
up  on  one  foot,  placed  a  brand  new  pen  in  the 
holder,  then  drew  a  sheet  of  paper  toward  her 
and,  with  shoulders  hunched  high  and  her  face 
close  to  the  paper  after  the  manner  of  a  child, 
she  began  to  pen  the  first  of  a  series  of  veiled 
communications  that  were  ultimately  to  fill  her 
young  husband  with  amazement. 


CHAPTER     XI 

WHEN  Jimmy  reached  his  office  after  his  un- 
foreseen call  upon  Zoie,  his  subsequent  encounter 
with  Alfred,  and  his  enforced  luncheon  at  home 
with  Aggie,  he  found  his  mail,  his  'phone  calls, 
and  his  neglected  appointments  in  a  state  of 
hopeless  congestion,  and  try  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  concentrate  upon  their  disentangle- 
ment. Growing  more  and  more  furious  with  the 
long  legged  secretary  who  stood  at,  the  corner 
of  his  desk,  looking  down  upon  him  expectantly, 
and  waiting  for  his  tardy  instructions,  Jimmy 
rose  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  He  could 
feel  Andrew's  reproachful  eyes  following  him. 

"Shall  Miss  Perkins  take  your  letters  now?" 
asked  Andrew,  and  he  wondered  how  late  the  of- 
fice staff  would  be  kept  to-night  to  make  up  for 
the  time  that  was  now  being  wasted. 

Coming  after  repeated  wounds  from  his  near- 
est and  dearest,  Andrew's  implied  reproach  was 
too  much  for  Jimmy's  overwrought  nerves. 
"Get  out!"  he  answered  unceremoniously.  And 
when  Andrew  could  assure  himself  that  he  had 
heard  aright,  he  stalked  out  of  the  door  with  his 
head  high  in  the  air. 

Jimmy  looked  after  his  departing  secretary 
80 


Baby    Mine  81 

with  positive  hatred.  It  was  apparent  to  him 
that  the  whole  world  was  against  him.  He  had 
been  too  easy  he  decided.  His  family,  friends, 
and  business  associates  had  undoubtedly  lost  all 
respect  for  him.  From  this  day  forth  he  was 
determined  to  show  himself  to  be  a  man  of  strong 
mettle. 

Having  made  this  important  decision  and  hav- 
ing convinced  himself  that  he  was  about  to  start 
on  a  new  life,  Jimmy  strode  to  the  door  of  the 
office  and,  without  disturbing  the  injured  An- 
drew, he  called  sharply  to  Miss  Perkins  to  come 
at  once  and  take  his  letters. 

Poor  Jimmy!  Again  he  tried  in  vain  to  con- 
centrate upon  the  details  of  the  "  cut-glass  "  in- 
dustry. Invariably  his  mind  would  wander  back 
to  the  unexpected  incidents  of  the  morning. 
Stopping  suddenly  in  the  middle  of  a  letter  to  a 
competing  firm,  he  began  pacing  hurriedly  up 
and  down  the  room. 

Had  she  not  feared  that  her  chief  might  mis- 
construe any  suggestion  from  her  as  an  act  of 
impertinence,  Miss  Perkins,  having  learned  all 
the  company's  cut-glass  quotations  by  rote,  could 
easily  have  supplied  the  remainder  of  the  letter. 
As  it  was,  she  waited  impatiently,  tapping  the 
corner  of  the  desk  with  her  idle  pencil.  Jimmy 
turned  at  the  sound,  and  glanced  at  the  pencil 
with  unmistakable  disapproval.  Miss  Perkins 
waited  in  silence.  After  one  or  two  more  uneasy 


82  Baby  Mine 

laps  about  the  room,  Jimmy  went  to  his  'phone 
and  called  his  house  number. 

"  It's  undoubtedly  domestic  trouble,"  decided 
Miss  Perkins,  and  she  wondered  whether  it  would 
be  delicate  of  her,  under  the  circumstances,  to 
remain  in  the  room. 

From  her  employer's  conversation  at  the 
'phone,  it  was  clear  to  Miss  Perkins  that  Mrs. 
Jinks  was  spending  the  afternoon  with  Mrs. 
Hardy,  but  why  this  should  have  so  annoyed 
Mr.  Jinks  was  a  question  that  Miss  Perkins 
found  it  difficult  to  answer.  Was  it  possible  that 
Mr.  Jinks's  present  state  of  unrest  could  be 
traced  to  the  door  of  the  beautiful  young  wife  of 
his  friend?  "Oh  dear,"  thought  Miss  Perkins, 
"  how  scandalous !  " 

"  That  will  do,"  commanded  Jimmy,  interrupt- 
ing Miss  Perkins's  interesting  speculations,  and 
he  nodded  toward  the  door. 

"  But '  stammered  Miss  Perkins,  as  she 

glanced  at  the  unfinished  letters. 

"  I'll  call  you  when  I  need  you,"  answered 
Jimmy  gruffly.  Miss  Perkins  left  the  room  in 
high  dudgeon. 

"  PI!  show  them,"  said  Jimmy  to  himself,  de- 
termined to  carry  out  his  recent  resolve  to  be 
firm. 

Then  his  mind  went  back  to  his  domestic 
troubles.  "  Suppose,  that  Zoie,  after  im- 
posing secrecy  upon  him,  should  change  that 


Baby   Mine  83 

thing  called  her  *  mind '  and  confide  in  Ag- 
gie about  the  luncheon?  "  Jimmy  was  positively 
pale.  He  decided  to  telephone  to  Zoie's  house 
and  find  out  how  affairs  were  progressing.  At 
the  'phone  he  hesitated.  "  If  Aggie  lias  found 
out  about  the  luncheon,"  he  argued,  "  my  'phon- 
ing to  Zoie's  will  increase  her  suspicions.  If 
Zoie  has  told  her  nothing,  she'll  wonder  why  I'm 
'phoning  to  Zoie's  house.  There's  only  one  thing 
to  do,"  he  decided.  "  I  must  wait  and  say  noth- 
ing. I  can  tell  from  Aggie's  face  when  I  meet 
her  at  dinner  whether  Zoie  has  betrayed 
me." 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  Jimmy  re- 
solved to  get  home  as  early  as  possible,  and 
again  Miss  Perkins  was  called  to  his  aid. 

The  flurry  with  which  Jimmy  despatched  the 
day's  remaining  business  confirmed  both  Miss 
Perkins  and  Andrew  in  their  previous  opinion 
that  "  the  boss "  had  suddenly  "  gone  off  his 
head."  And  when  he  at  last  left  the  office  and 
banged  the  door  behind  him  there  was  a  general 
sigh  of  relief  from  his  usually  tranquil  staff. 

Instead  of  walking,  as  was  his  custom,  Jimmy 
took  a  taxi  to  his  home — but  alas,  to  his  sur- 
prise he  found  no  wife. 

"  Did  Mrs.  Jinks  leave  any  word? "  he  in- 
quired from  the  butler. 

"  None  at  all,"  answered)  that  unperturbed 
creature;  and  Jimmy  felt  sure  that  the  attitude 


84  Baby  Mine 

of  his  office  antagonists  had  communicated  itself 
to  his  household  servants. 

When  Jimmy's  anxious  ear  at  last  caught  the 
rustle  of  a  woman's  dress  in  the  hallway,  his  din- 
ner had  been  waiting  half  an  hour,  and  he  had 
worked  himself  into  a  state  of  fierce  antagonism 
toward  everything  and  everybody. 

At  the  sound  of  Aggie's  voice  however,  his 
heart  began  to  pound  with  fear.  "  Had  she 
found  him  out  for  the  weak  miserable  deceiver 
that  he  was?  Would  she  tell  him  that  they  were 
going  to  separate  forever?  " 

Aggie's  first  words  were  reassuring.  "  Aw- 
fully sorry  to  be  so  late,  dear,"  she  said. 

Jimmy  felt  her  kiss  upon  his  chubby  cheek  and 
her  dear  arms  about  his  neck.  He  decided  forth- 
with to  tell  her  everything,  and  never,  never 
again  to  run  the  risk  of  deceiving  her;  but 
before  he  could  open  his  lips,  she  continued 
gaily: 

"  I've  brought  Zoie  home  with  me,  dear. 
There's  no  sense  in  her  eating  all  alone,  and  she's 
going  to  have  all  her  dinners  with  us."  Jimmy 
groaned.  "  After  dinner,"  continued  Aggie, 
"  you  and  I  can  take  her  to  the  theatre  and  all 
those  places  and  keep  her  cheered  until  Alfred 
comes  home." 

"Home?"  repeated  Jimmy  in  alarm.  Was  it 
possible  that  Alfred  had  already  relented? 

"  Oh,  he  doesn't  know  it  yet,"  explained  Aggie, 


Baby   Mine  85 

"  but  he's  coming.  We'll  tell  you  all  about  it 
at  dinner."  And  they  did. 

While  waiting  for  Aggie.  Jimmy  had  thought 
himself  hungry,  but  once  the  two  women  had  laid 
before  him  their  "  nefarious  baby-snatching 
scheme  " — food  lost  its  savour  for  him,  and  one 
course  after  another  was  taken  away  from  him 
untouched. 

Each  time  that  Jimmy  ventured  a  mild  objec- 
tion to  his  part  in  the  plan,  as  scheduled  by  them, 
he  met  the  threatening  eye  of  Zoie;  and  by  the 
time  that  the  three  left  the  table  he  was  so  har- 
assed and  confused  by  the  chatter  of  the  two 
excited  women,  that  he  was  not  only  reconciled 
but  eager  to  enter  into  any  scheme  that  might 
bring  Alfred  back,  and  free  him  of  the  enforced 
companionship  of  Alfred's  nerve-racking  wife. 
True,  he  reflected,  it  was  possible  that  Alfred, 
on  his  return,  might  discover  him  to  be  the  cul- 
prit who  lunched  with  Zoie  and  might  carry  out 
his  murderous  threat;  but  even  such  a  fate  was 
certainly  preferable  to  interminable  evenings 
spent  under  the  same  roof  with  Zoie. 

"  All  you  need  do,  Jimmy,"  explained  Aggie 
sweetly,  when  the  three  of  them  were  comfortably 
settled  in  the  library,  "  is  to  see  your  friend  the 
Superintendent  of  the  Babies'  Home,  and  tell  him 
just  what  kind  of  a  baby  we  shall  need,  and  when 
we  shall  need  it." 

"  Can't  we  see  it  ourselves?  "  chimed  in  Zoie. 


86  Baby  Mine 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed,"  said  Aggie  confidently,  and 
she  turned  to  Jimmy  with  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 
"  You'd  better  tell  the  Superintendent  to  have 
several  for  us  to  look  at  when  the  time  arrives.'* 

"  Yes,  that's  better,"  agreed  Zoie. 

As  for  Jimmy,  he  had  long  ceased  to  make  any 
audible  comment,  but  internally  he  was  saying  to 
himself:  "man  of  strong  mettle,  indeed!" 

"  We'll  attend  to  all  the  clothes  for  the  child," 
said  Aggie  generously  to  Jimmy. 

"  I  want  everything  to  be  hand-made,"  ex- 
claimed Zoie  enthusiastically. 

"  We  can  make  a  great  many  of  the  things  our- 
selves, evenings,"  said  Aggie,  "  while  we  sit  here 
and  talk  to  Jimmy." 

"  I  thought  we  were  going  out  evenings !  "  ob- 
jected Zoie. 

Jimmy  rolled  his  eyes  toward  her  like  a  dumb 
beast  of  burden. 

"  Most  evenings,"  assented  Aggie.  "  And 

then  toward  the  last,  you  know,  Zoie "  she 

hesitated  to  explain  further,  for  Jimmy  was  al- 
ready becoming  visibly  embarrassed. 

"  Oh,  yes,  that's  true,"  blushed  Zoie. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause,  then  Aggie 
turned  again  toward  Jimmy,  who  was  pretending 
to  rebuild  the  fire.  "  Oh  yes,  one  more  thing," 
she  said.  "  When  everything  is  quite  ready  for 
Alfred's  return,  we'll  allow  you,  Jimmy  dear,  to 
wire  him  the  good  news." 


Baby   Mine  87 

"  Thanks,  so  much,"  said  Jimmy. 

"  I  wish  it  were  time  to  wire  now,"  said  Zoie 
peiibively,  and  in  his  mind,  Jimmy  fervently 
agreed  with  that  sentiment. 

"  The  next  few  months  will  slip  by  before  you 
know  it,"  declared  Aggie  cheerfully.  "  And  by 
the  way,  Zoie,"  she  added,  "  why  should  you  go 
back  to  your  lonesome  flat  to-night?  " 

Zoie  began  to  feel  for  her  pocket  handkerchief 
— Jimmy  sat  up  to  receive  the  next  blow.  "  Stay 
here  with  us,"  suggested  Aggie.  "  We'll  be  so 
glad  to  have  you."  She  included  Jimmy  in  her 
glance.  "  Won't  we,  dear?  "  she  asked. 

When  the  two  girls  went  upstairs  arm  in  arm 
that  night,  Jimmy  remained  in  his  chair  by  the 
fire,  too  exhausted  to  even  prepare  for  bed.  "  A 
man  of  mettle !  "  he  said  again  to  himself. 

This  had  certainly  been  the  longest  day  of  his 
life. 


CHAPTER     XII 

WHEN  Aggie  predicted  that  the  few  months  of 
waiting  would  pass  quickly  for  Zoie,  she  was 
quite  correct.  They  passed  quickly  for  Aggie 
as  well;  but  how  about  Jimmy?  When  he  after- 
ward recalled  this  interval  in  his  life,  it  was  al- 
ways associated  with  long  strands  of  lace  wind- 
ing around  the  legs  of  the  library  chairs,  white 
things  lying  about  in  all  the  places  where  he  had 
once  enjoyed  sitting  or  lying,  late  dinners, 
lonely  breakfasts,  and  a  sense  of  isolation  from 
Aggie. 

One  evening  when  he  had  waited  until  he  was 
out  of  all  patience  with  Aggie,  he  was  told  by  his 
late  and  apologetical  spouse  that  she  had  been 
helping  Zoie  to  redecorate  her  bedroom  to  fit 
the  coming  occasion. 

"  It  is  all  done  in  pink  and  white,"  explained 
Aggie,  and  then  followed  detailed  accounts  of  the 
exquisite  bed  linens,  the  soft  lovely  hangings,  and 
even  the  entire  relighting  of  the  room. 

"Why  pink?"  asked  Jimmy,  objecting  to  any 
scheme  of  Zoie's  on  general  principles. 

"  It's  Alfred's  favourite  colour,"  explained  Ag- 
gie. "  Besides,  it's  so  becoming,"  she  added. 

Jimmy  could  not  help  feeling  that  this  lure  to 
88 


Baby   Mine  89 

Alfred's  senses  was  absolutely  indecent,  and  he 
said  so. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  answered  Aggie,  quite  af- 
fronted, "  you  are  getting  as  unreasonable  as 
Alfred  himself."  Then  as  Jimmy  prepared  to 
sull:,  she  added  coaxingly,  "  I  was  going  to  tell 
you  about  Zoie's  lovely  new  negligee,  and  about 
the  dear  little  crib  that  just  matches  it.  Every- 
thing is  going  to  be  in  harmony." 

"  With  Zoie  in  the  house?  "  asked  Jimmy  scep- 
tically. 

"  I  can't  think  why  you've  taken  such  a  dis- 
like to  that  helpless  child,"  said  Aggie. 

A  few  days  later,  while  in  the  midst  of  his 
morning's  mail,  Jimmy  was  informed  that  it  was 
now  time  for  him  to  conduct  Aggie  and  Zoie  to 
the  Babies'  Home  to  select  the  last,  but  most  im- 
portant, detail  for  their  coming  campaign.  Ac- 
cording to  instructions,  Jimmy  had  been  in  com- 
munication with  the  amused  Superintendent  of 
the  Home,  and  he  now  led  the  two  women  forth 
with  the  proud  consciousness  that  he,  at  least, 
had  attended  properly  to  his  part  of  the  business. 
By  the  time  they  reached  the  Children's  Home, 
several  babies  were  on  view  for  their  critical  in- 
spection. 

Zoie  stared  into  the  various  cribs  containing 
the  wee,  red  mites  with  puckered  faces.  "  Oh 
dear !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  haven't  you  any  white 
ones  ?  " 


90  Baby  Mine 

"  These  are  supposed  to  be  white,"  said  the  Su- 
perintendent, with  an  indulgent  smile,  "  the  black 
ones  are  on  the  other  side  of  the  room." 

"  Black  ones !  "  cried  Zoie  in  horror,  and  she 
faced  about  quickly  as  though  expecting  an  at- 
tack from  their  direction. 

"  Which  particular  one  of  these  would  you 
recommend?  "  asked  the  practical  Aggie  of  the 
Superintendent  as  she  surveyed  the  first  lot. 

"  Well,  it's  largely  a  matter  of  taste,  ma'am," 
he  answered.  "  This  seems  a  healthy  little 
chap,"  he  added,  and  seizing  the  long  white 
clothes  of  the  nearest  infant,  he  drew  him  across 
his  arm  and  held  him  out  for  Aggie's  inspection. 

"  Let's  see,"  cried  Zoie,  and  she  stood  on 
tiptoe  to  peep  over  the  Superintendent's  el- 
bow. 

As  for  Jimmy,  he  stood  gloomily  apart.  This 
was  an  ordeal  for  which  he  had  long  been  prepar- 
ing himself,  and  he  was  resolved  to  accept  it  philo- 
sophically. 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  that  one,"  snipped 
Zoie.  And  in  spite  of  himself.  Jimmy  felt  his 
temper  rising. 

Aggie  turned  to  him  with  a  smile.  "  Which 
one  do  you.  prefer,  Jimmy?  " 

"  It's  not  my  affair,"  answered  Jimmy  curtly. 

**  Since  when?  "  asked  Zoie. 

Aggie  perceived  trouble  brewing,  and  she 
turned  to  pacify  Jimmy.  "  Which  one  do  you 


Baby    Mine  91 

think  your  -friend  Alfred  would  like?  "  she  per- 
sisted. 

"  If  I  were  in  his  place "  began  •  Jimmy 

hotly. 

"Oh,  but  you  aren't"  interrupted  Zoie;  then 
she  turned  to  the  Superintendent.  "  What 
makes  some  of  them  so  much  larger  than  others?  " 
she  asked,  glancing  at  the  babies  he  had  called 
"  white." 

"  Well,  you  see  they're  of  different  ages,"  ex- 
plained the  Superintendent  indulgently. 

"  We  told  Mr.  Jinks  they  must  all  be  of  the 
same  age,"  said  Zoie  with  a  reproachful  look  at 
Jimmy. 

"  What  age  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  Superinten- 
dent. 

"I  should  say  a  week  old,"  said  Aggie. 

"  Then  this  is  the  one  for  you,"  decided  the  Su- 
perintendent, designating  his  first  choice. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  take  the  Superintendent's 
advice,"  said  Aggie  complacertly. 

Zoie  looked  around  the  room  with  a  dissatis- 
fied air.  Was  it  possible  that  all  babies  were  as 
homely  a?  these? 

"  You  know,  Zoie,"  explained  Aggie,  divining 
her  thought,  "  they  get  better  looking  as  they 
grow  older." 

"  They  couldn't  look  worse !  "  was  Zoie's  dis- 
gusted comment. 

"  Fetch  it  home,  Jimmy,"  said  Aggie. 


92  Baby  Mine 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  who  had  consid- 
ered his  mission  completed. 

"  You  don't  expect  us  to  carry  it,  do  you  ?  " 
asked  Aggie  in  a  hurt  voice. 

The  Superintendent  settled  the  difficulty  tem- 
porarily by  informing  them  that  the  baby  could 
not  possibly  leave  the  home  until  the  mother  had 
signed  the  necessary  papers  for  its  release. 

"  I  thought  all  those  details  had  been  attended 
to,"  said  Aggie,  and  again  the  two  women  sur- 
veyed Jimmy  with  grieved  disappointment. 

"  I'll  get  the  mother's  signature  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,"  volunteered  the  Superintendent. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Zoie,  "  and  in  the  meantime, 
I'll  send  some  new  clothes  for  it,"  and  with  a 
lofty  farewell  to  the  Superintendent,  she  and 
Aggie  followed  Jimmy  down  stairs  to  the  taxi. 

"  Now,"  said  Zoie,  when  they  were  properly 
seated,  "let's  stop  at  a  telegraph  office  and  let 
Jimmy  send  a  wire  to  Alfred." 

"  Wait  until  we  get  the  baby,"  cautioned  Ag- 
gie. 

"  We'll  have  it  the  first  thing  in  the  morning," 
argued  Zoie. 

"  Jimmy  can  send  him  a  night-letter,"  com- 
promised Aggie,  "  that  way  Alfred  won't  get  the 
news  until  morning." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  taxi  stopped  in  front 
of  Jimmy's  office  and  with  a  sigh  of  thanksgiving 
he  hurried  upstairs  to  his  unanswered  mail. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

WHEN  Alfred  Hardy  found  himself  on  the  train 
bound  for  Detroit,  he  tried  to  assure  him- 
self that  he  had  done  the  right  thing  in  breaking 
away  from  an  association  that  had  kept  him  for 
months  in  a  constant  state  of  ferment.  His 
business  must  come  first,  he  decided.  Having^ 
settled  this  point  to  his  temporary  satisfaction, 
he  opened  his  afternoon  paper  and  leaned  back 
in  his  seat,  meaning  to  divert  his  mind  from  per- 
sonal matters,  by  learning  what  was  going  on  in 
the  world  at  large. 

No  sooner  had  his  eye  scanned  the  first  head- 
line than  he  was  startled  by  a  boisterous 
greeting  from  a  fellow  traveller,  who  was  just 
passing  down  the  aisle. 

"  Hello,  Hardy ! "  cried  his  well  meaning 
acquaintance.  "Where  are  you  bound  for?" 

"  Detroit,"  answered  Alfred,  annoyed  by  the 
sudden  interruption. 

"Where's  the  missus?"  asked  the  intruder. 

"  Chicago,"  was  Alfred's  short  reply. 

"  That's  a  funny  thing,"  declared  the  convivial 
spirit,  not  guessing  how  funny  it  really  was. 
:t  You  know,"  he  continued,  so  loud  that  every- 


94  Baby  Mine 

one  in  the  vicinity  could  not  fail  to  hear  him, 
"  the  last  time  I  met  you  two,  you  were  on  your 
honeymoon — on  this  very  train,"  and  with  that 
the  fellow  sat  himself  down,  uninvited,  by  Alfred's 
side  and  started  on  a  long  list  of  compliments 
about  "  the  fine  little  girl  "  who  had  in  his  opin- 
ion done  Alfred  a  great  favour  when  she  con- 
sented to  tie  herself  to  a  "  dull,  money-grubbing 
chap  "  like  him. 

"So,"  thought  Alfred,  "this  is  the  way  the 
•world  sees  us."  And  he  began  to  frame  inaudi- 
ble but  desperate  defences  of  himself.  Again  he 
told  himself  that  he  was  right;  but  his  friend's 
thoughtless  words  had  planted  an  uncomfortable 
doubt  in  his  mind,  and  when  he  left  the  train  to 
drive  to  his  hotel,  he  was  thinking  very  little 
about  the  new  business  relations  upon  which  he 
was  entering  in  Detroit,  and  very  much  about  the 
domestic  relations  which  he  had  just  severed  in 
Chicago. 

Had  he  been  merely  a  "  dull  money-grubber  "  ? 
Had  he  left  his  wife  too  much  alone?  Was  she 
not  a  mere  child  when  he  married  her?  Could 
he  not,  with  more  consideration,  have  made  of 
her  a  more  understanding  companion?  These 
were  questions  that  were  still  unanswered  in  his 
mind  when  he  arrived  at  one  of  Detroit's  most 
enterprising  hotels. 

But  later,  having  telephoned  to  his  office  and 
found  that  several  matters  of  importance  were 


Baby   Mine  95 

awaiting  his  decision,  he  forced  himself  to  enter 
immediately  upon  his  business  obligations. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  Alfred  soon  won 
the  respect  and  serious  consideration  of  most  of 
his  new  business  associates,  and  this  in  a  measure 
so  mollified  his  hurt  pride,  that  upon  rare  occa- 
sions he  was  affable  enough  to  accept  the  hospital- 
ity of  their  homes.  But  each  excursion  that  he 
made  into  the  social  life  of  these  new  friends,  only 
served  to  remind  him  of  the  unsettled  state  of 
his  domestic  affairs. 

"  How  your  wife  must  miss  you ! "  his  hostess 
would  remark  before  they  were  fairly  seated  at 
table. 

"  They  tell  me  she  is  so  pretty,"  his  vis-a-vis 
would  exclaim. 

"  When  is  she  going  to  join  you?  "  the  lady  on 
his  left  would  ask. 

Then  his  host  would  laugh  and  tell  the  "  dear 
ladies  "  that  in  his  opinion,  Alfred  was  afraid  to 
bring  his  wife  to  Detroit,  lest  he  might  lose  her  to 
a  handsomer  man. 

Alfred  could  never  quite  understand  why  re- 
marks such  as  this  annoyed  him  almost  to  the 
point  of  declaring  the  whole  truth.  His  leaving 
Zoie,  and  his  "  losing "  her,  as  these  would-be 
comedians  expressed  it,  were  two  separate  and 
distinct  things  in  his  mind,  and  he  felt  an  al- 
most irresistible  desire  to  make  this  plain  to  all 
concerned. 


Mine 

But  no  sooner  did  he  open  his  lips  to  do  so, 
than  a  picture  of  Zoie  in  all  her  child-like  plead- 
ing loveliness,  arose  to  dissuade  him.  He  could 
imagine  his  dinner  companions  all  pretending  to 
sympathise  with  him,  while  they  flayed  poor  Zoie 
alive.  She  would  never  have  another  chance  to 
be  known  as  a  respectable  woman,  and  compared 
to  most  women  of  his  acquaintance,  she  was  a  re- 
spectable woman.  True,  according  to  old-fash- 
ioned standards,  she  had  been  indiscreet,  but  ap- 
parently the  present  day  woman  had  a  standard 
of  her  own.  Alfred  found  his  eye  wandering 
round  the  table  surveying  the  wives  of  his 
friends.  Was  there  one  of  them,  he  wondered, 
who  had  never  fibbed  to  her  husband,  or  eaten  » 
simple  luncheon  unchaperoned  by  him?  Of  one 
thing  he  was  certain,  there  was  not  one  of  them 
so  attractive  as  Zoie.  Might  she  not  be  forgiven, 
to  some  extent,  if  her  physical  charms  had  made 
her  a  source  of  dangerous  temptation  to  unprin- 
cipled scoundrels  like  the  one  with  whom  she  had 
no  doubt  lunched?  Then,  too,  had  she  not  of- 
fered at  the  moment  of  his  departure  to  tell  him 
the  "real  truth"?  Might  this  not  have  been 
the  one  occasion  upon  which  she  would  have  done 
so?  "She  seemed  so  sincere,"  he  ruminated, 
"  so  truly  penitent."  Then  again,  how  generous 
it  was  of  her  to  persist  in  writing  to  him  with 
never  an  answer  from  him  to  encourage  her.  If 
she  cared  for  him  so  little  as  he  had  once  imag- 


Baby   Mine  97 

ined,  why  should  she  wish  to  keep  up  even  a 
pretence  of  fondness?  Her  letters  indicated  an 
undying  devotion. 

These  were  some  of  the  thoughts  that  were  go- 
ing through  Alfred's  mind  just  three  months 
after  his  departure  from  Chicago,  and  all  the 
while  his  hostess  was  mentally  duhbing  him  a 
"  dull  person." 

"  What  an  abstracted  man  he  is ! "  she  said 
before  he  was  down  the  front  steps. 

"Is  he  really  so  clever  in  business?  "  a  woman 
friend  inquired. 

"It's  hard  to  believe,  isn't  it?"  commented  a 
third,  and  his  host  apologised  for  the  absent  Al- 
fred by  saying  that  he  was  no  doubt  worried 
about  a  particular  business  decision  that  had  to 
be  made  the  next  morning. 

But  it  was  not  the  responsibility  of  this  busi- 
ness decision  that  was  knotting  Alfred's  brow, 
as  he  walked  hurriedly  toward  the  hotel,  where 
he  had  told  his  office  boy  to  leave  the  last  mail. 
This  had  been  the  longest  interval  that  Zoie  had 
ever  let  slip  without  writing.  He  recalled  that 
her  last  letters  had  hinted  at  a  "  slight  indisposi- 
tion." In  fact,  she  had  even  mentioned  "  seeing 
the  doctor  " — "  Good  Heavens  !  "  he  thought, 
"Suppose  she  were  really  ill?  Who  would  look 
after  her?  " 

When  Alfred  reached  his  rooms,  the  boy  had 
not  yet  arrived.  He  crossed  to  the  library  table 


98  Baby  Mine 

and  took  from  the  drawer  all  the  letters  thus  far 
received  from  Zoie.  He  read  them  consecutively. 
"  How  could  he  have  been  so  stupid  as  not  to 
have  realised  sooner  that  her  illness — whatever  it 
was — had  been  gradually  creeping  upon  her  from 
the  very  first  day  of  his  departure?  " 

The  boy  arrived  with  the  mail.  It  contained 
no  letter  from  Zoie  and  Alfred  went  to  bed  with 
an  uneasy  mind. 

The  next  morning  he  was  down  at  his  office 
early,  still  no  letter  from  Zoie. 

Refusing  his  partner's  invitation  to  lunch,  Al- 
fred sat  alone  in  his  office,  glad  to  be  rid  of  intru- 
sive eyes.  "  He  would  write  to  Jimmy  Jinks," 
he  decided,  "  and  find  out  whether  Zoie  were  in 
any  immediate  danger." 

Not  willing  to  await  the  return  of  his  stenog- 
rapher, or  to  acquaint  her  with  his  personal  af- 
fairs, Alfred  drew  pen  and  paper  toward  him  and 
sat  helplessly  before  it.  How  could  he  inquire 
about  Zoie  without  appearing  to  invite  a  recon- 
ciliation with  her?  While  he  was  trying  to  an- 
swer this  vexed  question,  a  sharp  knock  came  at 
the  door.  He  turned  to  see  a  uniformed  mes- 
senger holding  a  telegram  toward  him.  Intui- 
tively he  felt  that  it  contained  some  word  about 
Zoie.  His  hand  trembled  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  sign  for  the  message  before  open- 
ing it. 

A  moment  later  the  messenger  boy  was  startled 


Baby   Mine  99 

out  of  his  lethargy  by  a  succession  of  contradic- 
tory exclamations. 

"  No !  "  cried  Alfred  incredulously  as  he  gazed 
in  ecstasy  at  the  telegram.  "  Yes !  "  he  shouted, 
excitedly,  as  he  rose  from  his  chair.  "  Where's 
a  time  table?  "  he  asked  the  astonished  boy,  and 
he  began  rummaging  rapidly  through  the  draw- 
ers of  his  desk. 

"Any  answer?"  inquired  the  messenger. 

"  Take  this,"  said  Alfred.  And  he  thrust  a 
bill  into  the  small  boy's  hand. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy  and  disappeared 
quickly,  lest  this  madman  might  reconsider  his 
generosity. 

Alfred  threw  down  the  time  table  in  despair. 
"No  train  for  Chicago  until  night,"  he  cried; 
but  his  mind  was  working  fast.  The  next  mo- 
ment he  was  at  the  telephone,  asking  for  the 
Division  Superintendent  of  the  railway  line. 

When  Alfred's  partner  returned  from  luncheon 
he  found  a  curt  note  informing  him  that  Alfred 
had  left  on  a  special  for  Chicago  and  would 
"  write." 

"  I'll  bet  it's  his  wife !  "  said  the  partner. 


CHAPTER     XIV 

DURING  the  evening  of  the  same  day  that  Al- 
fred was  enjoying  such  pleasurable  emotions, 
Zoie  and  Aggie  were  closeted  in  the  pretty  pink 
and  white  bedroom  that  the  latter  had  tried  to 
describe  to  Jimmy.  On  a  rose-coloured  couch  in 
front  of  the  fire  sat  Aggie  threading  ribbons 
through  various  bits  of  soft  white  linen,  and  in 
front  of  her,  at  the  foot  of  a  rose-draped  bed, 
knelt  Zoie.  She  was  trying  the  effect  of  a  large 
pink  bow  against  the  lace  flounce  of  an  empty 
but  inviting  bassinette. 

"How's  that?"  she  called  to  Aggie,  as  she 
turned  her  head  to  one  side  and  surveyed  the 
result  of  her  experiment  with  a  critical  eye. 

Aggie  shot  a  grudging  glance  at  the  bassinette. 
"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  bother  me  every  moment," 
she  said.  "  I'll  never  get  all  these  things 
finished." 

Apparently  Zoie  decided  that  the  bow  was 
properly  placed,  for  she  applied  herself  to  sewing 
it  fast  to  the  lining.  In  her  excitement  she  gave 
the  thread  a  vicious  pull.  "  Oh,  dear,  oh  dear, 
my  thread  is  always  breaking !  "  she  sighed  in 
vexation. 

"  You're  excited,"  said  Aggie. 
100 


Baby    Mine  101 

"  Wouldn't  you  be  excited,"  questioned  Zoie, 
"  if  you  were  expecting  a  baby  and  a  husband  in 
the  morning?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  should,"  admitted  Aggie. 

For  a  time  the  two  friends  sewed  in  silence; 
then  Zoie  looked  up  with  sudden  anxiety. 
"You're  sure  Jimmy  sent  the  wire?"  she  asked. 

"  I  saw  him  write  it,"  answered  Aggie,  "  while 
I  was  in  the  office  to-day." 

"When  will  Alfred  get  it?"  demanded  Zoie 
eagerly. 

"  Oh,  he  won't  get  it  until  to-morrow  morning," 
said  Aggie.  "  I  told  you  that  to-day.  It's  a 
night  message." 

"  I  wonder  what  he'll  be  doing  when  he  gets 
it?"  mused  Zoie.  There  was  a  suspicion  of  a 
smile  around  her  lips. 

"  What  will  he  do  after  he  gets  it?  "  questioned 
Aggie. 

Looking  up  at  her  friend  in  alarm,  Zoie  sud- 
denly ceased  sewing.  "  You  don't  mean  he  won't 
come?"  she  gasped. 

"  Of  course  I  don't,"  answered  Aggie.  "  He's 
only  human  if  he  is  a  husband." 

There  was  a  sceptical  expression  around  Zoie's 
mouth,  but  she  did  not  pursue  the  subject. 
"  How  do  you  suppose  that  red  baby  will  ever 
look  in  this  pink  basket?"  she  asked.  And  then 
with  a  regretful  little  sigh,  she  declared  that  she 
wished  she'd  "  used  blue." 


102  Baby  Mine 

"  I  didn't  think  the  baby  that  we  chose  was  so 
horribly  red,"  said  Aggie. 

"Red!"  cried  Zoie,  "it's  magenta."  And 
again  her  thread  broke.  "  Oh,  darn !  "  she  ex- 
claimed in  annoyance,  and  once  more  rethreaded 
her  needle.  "  I  couldn't  look  at  it,"  she  con- 
tinued with  a  disgusted  little  pucker  of  her  face. 
"  I  wish  they  had  let  us  take  it  this  afternoon  so 
I  could  have  got  used  to  it  before  Alfred  gets 
liere." 

"  Now  don't  be  silly,"  scolded  Aggie.  "  You 
know  very  well  that  the  Superintendent  can't 
let  it  leave  the  home  until  its  mother  signs  the 
papers.  It  will  be  here  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning.  You'll  have  all  day  to  get  used  to  it 
before  Alfred  gets  here." 

"  All  day,"  echoed  Zoie,  and  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  began  to  droop.  "  Won't  Alfred  be  here 
before  to-morrow  night?  " 

Aggie  was  becoming  exasperated  by  Zoie's  end- 
less questions.  "  I  told  you,"  she  explained 
wearily,  "  that  the  wire  won't  be  delivered  until 
to-morrow  morning,  it  will  take  Alfred  eight  hours 
to  get  here,  and  there  may  not  be  a  train  just 
that  minute." 

"  Eight  long  hours,"  sighed  Zoie  dismally. 
And  Aggie  looked  at  her  reproachfully,  forget- 
ting that  it  is  always  the  last  hour  that  is  hardest 
to  bear.  Zoie  resumed  her  sewing  resignedly. 
Aggie  was  meditating  whether  she  should  read 


Baby    Mine  103 

her  young  friend  a  lecture  on  the  value  of  pa- 
tience, when  the  telephone  began  to  ring  violently. 

Zoie  looked  up  from  her  sewing  with  a  frown. 
"  You  answer  it,  will  3rou,  Aggie?  "  she  said.  "  I 
can't  let  go  this  thread." 

"  Hello,"  called  Aggie  sweetly  over  the  'phone ; 
then  she  added  in  surprise,  "  Is  this  you,  Jimmy 
dear?  "  Apparently  it  was;  and  as  Zoie  watched 
Aggie's  face,  with  its  increasing  distress  she  sur- 
mised that  Jimmy's  message  was  anything  but 
"  dear." 

"  Good  heavens ! "  cried  Aggie  over  the  tele- 
phone, "  that's  awful !  " 

"Isn't  Alfred  coming?  "  was  the  first  question 
that  burst  from  Zoie's  lips. 

Aggie  motioned  to  Zoie  to  be  quiet.  "  To- 
night! "  she  exclaimed. 

"To-night!"  echoed  Zoie  joyfully;  and  with- 
out waiting  for  more  details  and  with  no  thought 
beyond  the  moment,  she  flew  to  her  dressing  table 
and  began  arranging  her  hair,  powdering  her  face, 
perfuming  her  lips,  and  making  herself  partic- 
ularly alluring  for  the  prodigal  husband's  return. 

Now  the  far-sighted  Aggie  was  experiencing 
less  pleasant  sensations  at  the  phone.  "  A  spe- 
cial ?  "  she  was  saying  to  Jimmy.  "  When  did 
Alfred  get  the  message?"  There  was  a  slight 
pause.  Then  she  asked  irritably,  "  Well,  didn't 
you  mark  it  'night  message'?"  From  the  ex- 
pression on  Aggie's  face  it  was  evident  that  he 


104  Baby  Mine 

had  not  done  so.  "  But,  Jimm}',"  protested  Ag- 
gie, "  this  is  dreadful !  We  haven't  any  baby !  " 
Then  calling  to  him  to  wait  a  minute,  and  leav- 
ing the  receiver  dangling,  she  crossed  the  room  to 
Zoic,  who  was  now  thoroughly  engrossed  in  the 
making  of  a  fresh  toilet.  "  Zoie !  "  she  exclaimed 
excitedly,  "  Jimmy  made  a  mistake." 

"  Of  course  he'd  do  that"  answered  Zoie  care- 
lessly. 

*'  But  you  don't  understand,"  persisted  Aggie. 
"  They  sent  the  '  night  message '  to-day.  Al- 
fred's coming  on  a  special.  He'll  be  here  to- 
night." 

"  Thank  goodness  for  that ! "  cried  Zoie,  and 
the  next  instant  she  was  waltzing  gaily  about  the 
room. 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  answered  Aggie,  as  she 
followed  Zoie  with  anxious  eyes,  "  but  where's 
your  baby?  " 

"  Good  heavens ! "  cried  Zoie,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  became  conscious  of  their  predicament. 
She  gazed  at  Aggie  in  consternation.  "  I  forgot 
all  about  it,"  she  said,  and  then  asked  with  grow- 
ing anxiety,  "  What  can  we  do?  " 

"Do?"  echoed  Aggie,  scarcely  knowing  her- 
self what  answer  to  make,  "  we've  got  to  get  it — 
to-night.  That's  all!" 

"  But,"  protested  Zoie,  "  how  can  we  get  it 
when  the  mother  hasn't  signed  the  papers  yet?  " 

"  Jimmy   will  have   to   arrange   that  with   the 


Baby    Mine  105 

Superintendent  of  the  Home,"  answered  Aggie 
with  decision,  and  she  turned  toward  the  'phone 
to  instruct  Jimmy  accordingly. 

"  Yes,  that's  right,"  assented  Zoie,  glad  to  be 
rid  of  all  further  responsibility,  "  we'll  let  Jimmy 
fix  it." 

"  Say,  Jimmy,"  called  Aggie  excitedly,  "  you'll 
have  to  go  straight  to  the  Children's 
Home  and  get  that  baby  just  as  quickly  as  you 
can.  There's  some  red  tape  about  the  mother 
signing  papers,  but  don't  mind  about  that. 
Make  them  give  it  to  you  to-night.  Hurry, 
Jimmy.  Don't  waste  a  minute." 

There  was  evidently  a  protest  from  the  other 
end  of  the  wire,  for  Aggie  added  impatiently, 
"  Go  on,  Jimmy,  do !  You  can  eat  any  time." 
And  with  that  she  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"Its  clothes,"  called  Zoie  frantically.  "Tell 
him  about  the  clothes.  I  sent  them  this  evening." 

"  Never  mind  about  the  clothes,"  answered  Ag- 
gie. "  We're  lucky  if  we  get  the  baby." 

"  But  I  have  to  mind,"  persisted  Zoie.  "  I 
gave  all  its  other  things  to  the  laundress.  I 
wanted  them  to  be  nice  and  fresh.  And  now  the 
horrid  old  creature  hasn't  brought  them  back 
yet." 

"  You  get  into  your  own  things,"  commanded 
Aggie. 

"  Where's  my  dressing  gown  ?  "  asked  Zoie,  her 
elation  revived  by  the  thought  of  her  fine  raiment, 


106  Baby  Mine 

and  with  that  she  flew  to  the  foot  of  the  bed  and 
snatched  up  two  of  the  prettiest  negligees  ever 
imported  from  Paris.  "  Which  do  you  like  bet- 
ter? "  she  asked,  as  she  held  them  both  aloft, 
"  the  pink  or  the  blue?  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  answered  Aggie  wearily. 
"  Get  into  something,  that's  all." 

"  Then  unhook  me,"  commanded  Zoie  gaily,  as 
she  turned  her  back  to  Aggie,  and  continued  to 
admire  the  two  "  creations "  on  her  arm.  So 
pleased  was  she  with  the  picture  of  herself  in 
either  of  the  garments  that  she  began  humming 
a  gay  waltz  and  swaying  to  the  rhythm. 

"  Stand  still,"  commanded  Aggie,  but  her  warn- 
ing was  unnecessary,  for  at  that  moment  Zoie 
was  transfixed  by  a  horrible  fear. 

"  Suppose,"  she  said  in  alarm,  "  that  Jimmy 
can't  get  the  baby?  " 

"  He's  got  to  get  it,"  answered  Aggie  emphat- 
ically, and  she  undid  the  last  stubborn  hook  of 
Zoie's  gown  and  put  the  girl  from  her.  "  There, 
now,  you're  all  unfastened,"  she  said,  "  hurry  and 
get  dressed." 

"  You  mean  wndressed,"  laughed  Zoie,  as  she 
let  her  pretty  evening  gown  fall  lightly  from  her 
shoulders  and  drew  on  her  pink  negligee.  "  Oh, 
Aggie !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
her  reflection  in  the  mirror,  "  isn't  it  a  love?  And 
you  know,"  she  added,  "  Alfred  just  adores 
pink." 


Baby    Mine  107 

"  Silly !  "  answered  Aggie,  but  in  spite  of  her- 
self, she  was  quite  thrilled  by  the  picture  of  the 
exquisite  young  creature  before  her.  Zoie  had 
certainly  never  looked  more  irresistible.  "  Can't 
you  get  some  of  that  colour  out  of  your  cheeks," 
asked  Aggie  in  despair.  "  You  look  like  a  wash- 
erwoman." 

"  I'll  put  on  some  cold  cream  and  powder," 
answered  Zoie.  She  flew  to  her  dressing  table; 
and  in  a  moment  there  was  a  white  cloud  in  her 
immediate  vicinity.  She  turned  to  Aggie  to  in- 
quire the  result.  Again  the  'phone  rang. 
"Who's  that?"  she  exclaimed  in  alarm. 

"  I'll  see,"  answered  Aggie. 

"It  couldn't  be  Alfred,  could  it?"  asked  Zoie 
with  mingled  hope  and  dread. 

"  Of  course  not,"  answered  Aggie,  as  she  re- 
moved the  receiver  from  the  hook.  "  Alfred 
wouldn't  'phone;  he  would  come  right  up." 


CHAPTER    XV 

DISCOVERING  that  it  was  merely  Jimmy  "  on 
the  wire,"  Zoie's  uneasiness  abated,  but  Aggie's 
anxiety  was  visibly  increasing. 

"  Where  are  you?"  she  asked  of  her  spouse. 
"  The  Children's  Home ! "  she  repeated,  then 
followed  further  explanations  from  Jimmy 
which  were  apparently  not  satisfactory.  "  Oh, 
Jimmy !  "  cried  his  disturbed  wife,  "  it  can't  be ! 
That's  horrible!" 

"  What  is  it?  "  shrieked  Zoie,  trying  to  get 
her  small  ear  close  enough  to  the  receiver  to  catch 
a  bit  of  the  obviously  terrifying  message. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  called  Aggie  into  the  'phone. 
Then  she  turned  to  Zoie  with  a  look  of  despair. 
"  The  mother's  changed  her  mind,"  she  explained ; 
"  she  won't  give  up  the  baby." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  cried  Zoie,  and  she  sank  into  the 
nearest  chair.  For  an  instant  the  two  women 
looked  at  each  other  with  blank  faces.  "  What 
can  we  do?  "  asked  Zoie. 

Aggie  did  not  answer  immediately.  This  was 
indeed  a  serious  predicament;  but  presently  Zoie 
saw  her  friend's  mouth  becoming  very  resolute, 
and  she  surmised  that  Aggie  had  solved  the  prob- 
lem. "  We'll  have  to  get  another  baby,  that's 

108 


Baby   Mine  109 

all,"  decided  Aggie.  "  There  must  be  other 
babies." 

"Where?"  asked  Zoie. 

"  There,  in  the  Children's  Home,"  answered  Ag- 
gie with  great  confidence,  and  she  returned  to  the 
'phone. 

Zoie  crossed  to  the  bed  and  knelt  at  its  foot 
in  search  of  her  little  pink  slippers. 

"  Oh,  Aggie,"  she  sighed,  "  the  others  were  all 
so  red!" 

But  Aggie  did  not  heed  her  protest.  "  Listen, 
Jimmy,"  she  called  in  the  'phone,  "  can't  you  get 
another  baby?  "  There  was  a  pause,  then  Aggie 
commanded  hotly,  "  Well,  get  in  the  business !  " 
Another  pause  and  then  Aggie  continued  very 
firmly,  "  Tell  the  Superintendent  that  we  just 
must  have  one." 

Zoie  stopped  in  the  act  of  putting  on  her  sec- 
ond slipper  and  called  a  reminder  to  Aggie. 
"  Tell  him  to  get  a  Tie  one,"  she  said,  "  Alfred 
wants  a  boy." 

"  Take  what  you  can  get !  "  answered  Aggie 
impatiently,  and  again  she  gave  her  attention  to 
the  'phone.  "  What ! "  she  cried,  with  growing 
despair,  and  Zoie  waited  to  hear  what  had  gone 
wrong  now.  "  Nothing  under  three  months," 
explained  Aggie. 

"Won't  that  do?"  asked  Zoie  innocently. 

"  Do !  "  echoed  Aggie  in  disgust.  "  A  three- 
months'  old  baby  is  as  big  as  a  whale." 


110  Baby  Mine 

"  Well,  can't  we  say  it  grew  up?  "  asked  Zoie, 
priding  herself  on  her  power  of  ready  resource. 

"  Overnight,  like  a  mushroom?  "  sneered  Aggie. 

Almost  vanquished  by  her  friend's  new  air  of 
cold  superiority,  Zoie  was  now  on  the  verge  of 
tears.  "  Somebody  must  have  a  new  baby,"  she 
faltered.  "  Somebody  always  has  a  new  baby." 

"  For  their  own  personal  use,  yes,"  admitted 
Aggie,  "  but  who  has  a  new  baby  for  us?  " 

"  How  do  I  know? "  asked  Zoie  helplessly. 
"  You're  the  one  who  ought  to  know.  You  got 
me  into  this,  and  you've  got  to  get  me  out  of  it. 
Can  you  imagine,"  she  asked,  growing  more  and 
more  unhappy,  "  what  would  happen  to  me  if 
Alfred  were  to  come  home  now  and  not  find  a 
baby?  He  wouldn't  forgive  a  little  lie,  what  would 
he  do  with  a  whopper  like  this  ?  "  Then  with 
sudden  decision,  she  rushed  toward  the  'phone. 
"  Let  me  talk  to  Jimmy,"  she  said,  and  the  next 
moment  she  was  chattering  so  rapidly  and  inco- 
herently over  the  'phone  that  Aggie  despaired  of 
hearing  one  word  that  she  said,  and  retired  to 
the  next  room  to  think  out  a  new  plan  of  action. 

"  Say,  Jimmy,"  stammered  Zoie  into  the  'phone, 
"  you've  got  to  get  me  a  baby.  If  you  don't,  I'll 
kill  myself!  I  will,  Jimmy,  I  will.  You  got  me 
into  this,  Jimmy,"  she  reminded  him.  "  You've 
got  to  get  me  out  of  it."  And  then  followed 
pleadings  and  coaxings  and  cajolings,  and  at 
length,  a  pause,  during  which  Jimmy  was  appar- 


Baby    Mine  111 

ently  able  to  get  in  a  word  or  so.  His  answer 
was  not  satisfactory  to  Zoie.  "  What ! "  she 
shrieked,  tiptoeing  to  get  her  lips  closer  to 
the  receiver;  then  she  added  with  conviction, 
"  the  mother  has  no  business  to  change  her 
mind/' 

Apparently  Jimmy  maintained  that  the  mother 
had  changed  it  none  the  less. 

"  Well,  take  it  away  from  her,"  commanded 
Zoie.  "  Get  it  quick,  while  she  isn't  looking." 
Then  casting  a  furtive  glance  over  her  shoulder 
to  make  sure  that  Aggie  was  still  out  of  the  room, 
she  indulged  in  a  few  dark  threats  to  Jimmy,  also 
some  vehement  reminders  of  how  he  had  dragged 
her  into  that  horrid  old  restaurant  and  been  the 
immediate  cause  of  all  the  misfortunes  that  had 
ever  befallen  her. 

Could  Jimmy  have  been  sure  that  Aggie  was 
out  of  ear-shot  of  Zoie's  conversation,  the  argu- 
ment would  doubtless  have  kept  up  indefinitely — 
as  it  was — the  result  was  a  quick  acquiescence  on 
his  part  and  by  the  time  that  Aggie  returned  to 
the  room,  Zoie  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  said  sweetly.  "  Jimmy's 
going  to  get  it." 

Aggie  looked  at  her  sceptically.  "  Goodness 
knows  I  hope  so,"  she  said,  then  added  in  despair, 
"  Look  at  your  cheeks.  They're  flaming." 

Once  more  the  powder  puff  was  called  into 
requisition!,  and  Zoie  turned  a  temporarily 


112  Baby  Mine 

blanched  face  to  Aggie.  "  Is  that  better?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Very  much,"  answered  Aggie,  "  but  how 
about  your  hair?" 

"What's  the  matter  with  it?"  asked  Zoie. 
Her  reflection  betrayed  a  coiffure  that  might 
have  turned  Marie  Antoinette  green  with  envy. 

"  Would  anybody  think  you'd  been  in  bed  for 
days?"  asked  Aggie. 

"  Alfred  likes  it  that  way,"  was  Zoie's  defence. 

"  Turn  around,"  said  Aggie,  without  deigning 
to  argue  the  matter  further.  And  she  began  to 
remove  handfuls  of  hairpins  from  the  yellow 
knotted  curls. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  exclaimed  Zoie,  as 
she  sprayed  her  white  neck  and  arms  with  her 
favourite  perfume. 

Aggie  did  not  answer. 

Zoie  leaned  forward  toward  the  mirror  to 
smooth  out  her  eyebrows  with  the  tips  of  her  per- 
fumed fingers.  "  Good  gracious,"  she  cried  in 
horror  as  she  caught  sight  of  her  reflection. 
"  You're  not  going  to  put  my  hair  in  a  pigtail !  " 

"  That's  the  way  invalids  always  have  their 
hair,"  was  Aggie's  laconic  reply,  and  she  contin- 
ued to  plait  the  obstinate  curls. 

"  I  won't  have  it  like  that ! "  declared  Zoie, 
and  she  shook  herself  free  from  Aggie's  unwel- 
come attentions  and  proceeded  to  unplait  the 
hateful  pigtail.  "  Alfred  would  leave  me." 


Baby  Mine  113 

Aggie  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  If  you're  going  to  make  a  perfect  fright  of 
me,"  pouted  Zoie,  "I  just  won't  see  him." 

"  He  isn't  coming  to  see  you"  reminded  Aggie. 
"  He's  coming  to  see  the  baby." 

"  If  Jimmy  doesn't  come  soon,  I'll  not  have 
any  baby,"  answered  Zoie. 

"  Get  into  bed,"  said  Aggie,  and  she  proceeded 
to  turn  down  the  soft  lace  coverlets. 

"  Where  did  I  put  my  cap?  "  asked  Zoie.  Her 
eyes  caught  the  small  knot  of  lace  and  ribbons  for 
which  she  was  looking,  and  she  pinned  it  on  top 
of  her  saucy  little  curls. 

"  In  you  go,"  said  Aggie,  motioning  to  the 
bed. 

"  Wait,"  said  Zoie  impressively,  "  wait  till  I 
get  my  rose  lights  on  the  pillow."  She  pulled 
the  slender  gold  chain  of  her  night  lamp;  in- 
stantly the  large  white  pillows  were  bathed  in  a 
warm  pink  glow — she  studied  the  effect  very  care- 
fully, then  added  a  lingerie  pillow  to  the  two 
more  formal  ones,  kicked  off  her  slippers  and 
hopped  into  bed.  One  more  glance  at  the  pil- 
lows, then  she  arranged  the  ribbons  of  her  negligee 
to  fall  "  carelessly  "  outside  the  coverlet,  threw 
one  arm  gracefully  above  her  head,  half-closed  her 
eyes,  and  sank  languidly  back  against  her  pillows. 

"How's  that?"  she  breathed  faintly. 

Controlling  her  impulse  to  smile,  Aggie  crossed 
to  the  dressing-table  with  a  business-like  air  and 


114  Baby  Mine 

applied  to  Zoie's  pink  cheeks  a  third  coating  of 
powder. 

Zoie  sat  bolt  upright  and  began  to  sneeze. 
"Aggie,"  she  said,  "I  just  hate  you  when  you 
act  like  that."  But  suddenly  she  was  seized  with 
a  new  idea. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  mused  as  she  looked  across 
the  room  at  the  soft,  pink  sofa  bathed  in  firelight, 
"  I  wonder  if  I  shouldn't  look  better  on  that 
couch  under  those  roses." 

Aggie  was  very  emphatic  in  her  opinion  to  the 
contrary.  "  Certainly  not !  "  she  said. 

"  Then,"  decided  Zoie  with  a  mischievous  smile, 
"  I'll  get  Alfred  to  carry  me  to  the  couch.  That 
way  I  can  get  my  arms  around  his  neck.  And 
once  you  get  your  arms  around  a  man's  neck, 
37ou  can  manage  him." 

Aggie  looked  down  at  the  small  person  with 
distinct  disapproval.  "  Now,  don't  you  make  too 
much  fuss  over  Alfred,"  she  continued.  "  You're 
the  one  who's  to  do  the  forgiving.  Don't  forget 
that !  What's  more,"  she  reminded  Zoie,  "  you're 
very,  very  weak."  But  before  she  had  time  to 
instruct  Zoie  further  there  was  a  sharp,  quick 
ring  at  the  outer  door. 

The  two  women  glanced  at  each  other  inquir- 
ingly. The  next  instant  a  man's  step  was  heard 
in  the  hallway. 

"  How  is  she,  Mary  ?  "  demanded  someone  in 
a  voice  tense  with  anxiety. 


Baby   Mine  115 

"  It's  Alfred !  "  exclaimed  Zoie. 

"  And  we  haven't  any  baby !  "  gasped  Aggie. 

"  What  shall  I  do?  "  cried  Zoie. 

"  Lie  down,"  commanded  Aggie,  and  Zoie  had 
barely  time  to  fall  back  limply  on  the  pillows  when 
the  excited  young  husband  burst  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER     XVI 

WHEN  Alfred  entered  Zoie's  bedroom  he  glanced 
about  him  in  bewilderment.  It  appeared  that 
he  was  in  an  enchanted  chamber.  Through 
the  dim  rose  light  he  could  barely  perceive  his 
young  wife.  She  was  lying  white  and  apparently 
lifeless  on  her  pillows.  He  moved  cautiously  to- 
ward the  bed,  but  Aggie  raised  a  warning  finger. 
Afraid  to  speak,  he  grasped  Aggie's  hand  and 
searched  her  face  for  reassurance;  she  nodded 
toward  Zoie,  whose  eyes  were  closed.  He  tip- 
toed to  the  bedside,  sank  on  his  knees  and  rever- 
ently kissed  the  small  hand  that  hung  limply 
across  the  side  of  the  bed. 

To  Alfred's  intense  surprise,  his  lips  had  barely 
touched  Zoie's  fingertips  when  he  felt  his  head 
seized  in  a  frantic  embrace.  "  Alfred,  Alfred !  " 
cried  Zoie  in  delight;  then  she  smothered  his  face 
with  kisses.  As  she  lifted  her  head  to  survey  her 
astonished  husband,  she  caught  the  reproving  eye 
of  Aggie.  With  a  weak  little  sigh,  she  relaxed  her 
tenacious  hold  of  Alfred,  breathed  his  name  very 
faintly,  and  sank  back,  apparently  exhausted, 
upon  her  pillows. 

"  It's  been  too  much  for  her,"  said  the  terrified 
young  husband,  and  he  glanced  toward  Aggie  in 
anxiety. 

116 


Baby    Mine  117 

Aggie  nodded  assent. 

"  How  pale  she  looks,"  added  Alfred,  as  he 
surveyed  the  white  face  on  the  pillows. 

"  She's  so  weak,  poor  dear,"  sympathised  Ag- 
gie, almost  in  a  whisper. 

Alfred  nodded  his  understanding  to  Aggie.  It 
was  then  that  his  attention  was  for  the  first  time 
attracted  toward  the  crib. 

"  M y  boy !  "  he  exclaimed.  And  again  Zoie 
forgot  Aggie's  warning  and  sat  straight  up  in 
bed.  But  Alfred  did  not  see  her.  He  was  mak- 
ing determindly  for  the  crib,  his  heart  beating 
high  with  the  pride  of  possession. 

Throwing  back  the  coverlets  of  the  bassinette, 
Alfred  stared  at  the  empty  bed  in  silence,  then 
he  quickly  turned  to,  the  two  anxious  women. 
"Where  Js  he?"  he  asked,  his  eyes  wide  with 
terror. 

Zoie's  lips  opened  to  answer,  but  no  words 
came. 

Alfred's  eyes  turned  to  Aggie.  The  look  on 
her  face  increased  his  worst  fears.  "  Don't  tell 

me  he's "  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  utter 

the  word.  He  continued  to  look  helplessly  from 
one  woman  to  the  other. 

In  vain  Zoie  again  tried  to  answer.  Aggie 
also  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  speak. 
Then,  driven  to  desperation  by  the  strain  of  the 
situation,  Zoie  declared  boldly:  "He's  out." 

"Out?"  echoed  Alfred  in  consternation. 


118  Baby  Mine 

"  With  Jimmy,"  explained  Aggie,  coming  to 
Zoie's  rescue  as  well  as  she  knew  how. 

"Jimmy!"  repeated  Alfred  in  great  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Just  for  a  breath  of  air,"  explained  Zoie 
sweetly.  She  had  now  entirely  regained  her  self- 
possession. 

"  Isn't  he  very  young  to  be  out  at  night?  " 
asked  Alfred  with  a  puzzled  frown. 

"  We  told  Jimmy  that,"  answered  Aggie, 
amazed  at  the  promptness  with  which  each  suc- 
ceeding lie  presented  itself.  "  But  you  see,"  she 
continued,  "  Jimmy  is  so  crazy  about  the  child 
that  we  can't  do  anything  with  him." 

"Jimmy  crazy  about  my  baby?"  exclaimed 
Alfred  incredulously.  "  He  always  said  babies 
were  *  little  red  worms.' ' 

"  Not  this  one,"  answered  Zoie  sweetly. 

"  No,  indeed,"  chimed  in  Aggie.  "  He  acts  as 
though  he  owned  it." 

"  Oh,  does  he?  "  exclaimed  Alfred  hotly.  "  I'll 
soon  put  a  stop  to  that,"  he  declared.  "  Where 
did  he  take  him  ?  " 

Again  the  two  women  looked  at  each  other  in- 
quiringly, then  Aggie  stammered  evasively. 
"  Oh,  j-just  downstairs — somewhere." 

"  I'll  look  j-just  downstairs  somewhere,"  de- 
cided Alfred,  and  he  snatched  up  his  hat  and 
started  toward  the  door. 

"  Alfred !  "  cried  Zoie  in  alarm. 


Baby   Mine  119 

Coming  back  to  her  bedside  to  reassure  her, 
Alfred  was  caught  in  a  frantic  embrace.  "  I'll 
be  back  in  a  minute,  dear,"  he  said,  but  Zoie  clung 
to  him  and  pleaded  desperately. 

"  You  aren't  going  to  leave  me  the  very  first 
thing?" 

Alfred  hesitated.  He  had  no  wish  to  be  cruel 
to  Zoie,  but  the  thought  of  Jimmy  out  in  the 
street  with  his  baby  at  this  hour  of  the  night  was 
not  to  be  borne. 

Zoie  renewed  her  efforts  at  persuasion. 
"  Now,  dearie,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  you'd  go  get 
shaved  and  wash  up  a  bit.  I  don't  wish  baby  to 
see  you  looking  so  horrid." 

"  Yes,  do,  Alfred,"  insisted  Aggie.  "  He's  sure 
to  be  here  in  a  minute." 

"  My  boy  won't  care  how  his  father  looks," 
declared  Alfred  proudly,  and  Zoie  told  Aggie 
afterward  that  his  chest  had  momentarily  ex- 
panded three  inches. 

"  But  /  care,"  persisted  Zoie.  "  First  impres- 
sions are  so  important." 

"  Now,  Zoie,"  cautioned  Aggie,  as  she  crossed 
toward  the  bed  with  affected  solicitude.  "  You 
mustn't  excite  yourself." 

Zoie  was  quick  to  understand  the  suggested 
change  in  her  tactics,  and  again  she  sank  back 
on  her  pillows  apparently  ill  and  faint. 

Utterly  vanquished  by  the  dire  result  of  his 
apparently  inhuman  thoughtlessness,  Alfred 


120  Baby  Mine 

glanced  at  Aggie,  uncertain  as  to  how  to  repair 
the  injury. 

Aggie  beckoned  to  him  to  come  away  from 
the  bed. 

"  Let  her  have  her  own  way,"  she  whispered 
with  a  significant  glance  toward  Zoie. 

Alfred  nodded  understandingly  and  put  a  fin- 
ger to  his  lips  to  signify  that  he  would  henceforth 
speak  in  hushed  tones,  then  he  tiptoed  back  to  the 
bed  and  gently  stroked  the  curls  from  Zoie's 
troubled  forehead. 

"  There  now,  dear,"  he  whispered,  "  lie  still  and 
rest  and  I'll  go  shave  and  wash  up  a  bit." 

Zoie  sighed  her  acquiescence. 

"  Mind,"  he  whispered  to  Aggie,  "  you  are  to 
call  me  the  moment  my  boy  comes,"  and  then  he 
slipped  quietly  into  the  bedroom. 

No  sooner  had  Alfred  crossed  the  threshold, 
than  Zoie  sat  up  in  bed  and  called  in  a  sharp 
whisper  to  Aggie,  "What's  keeping  them?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  answered  Aggie,  also  in  a 
whisper. 

"  If  I  had  Jimmy  here,"  declared  Zoie  vindic- 
tively, "  I'd  wring  his  little  fat  neck,"  and  slip- 
ping her  little  pink  toes  from  beneath  the  covers, 
she  was  about  to  get  out  of  bed,  when  Aggie, 
who  was  facing  Alfred's  bedroom  door,  gave  her 
a  warning  signal. 

Zoie  had  barely  time  to  get  back  beneath  the 


Baby   Mine  121 

covers,  when  Alfred  re-entered  the  room  in  search 
of  his  satchel.  Aggie  found  it  for  him  quickly. 

Alfred  glanced  solicitously  at  Zoie's  closed 
eyes.  "  I'm  so  sorry,"  he  apologised  to  Aggie, 
and  again  he  slipped  softly  out  of  the  room. 

Aggie  and  Zoie  drew  together  for  consulta- 
tion. 

"  Suppose  Jimmy  can't  get  the  baby,"  whis- 
pered Zoie. 

"  In  that  case,  he'd  have  'phoned,"  argued 
Aggie. 

"  Let's  'phone  to  the  Home,"  suggested  Zoie, 
"  and  find "  She  was  interrupted  by  Al- 
fred's voice. 

"  Say,  Aggie,"  called  Alfred  from  the  next 
room. 

"  Yes  ? "  answered  Aggie  sweetly,  and  she 
crossed  to  the  door  and  waited. 

"Hasn't  he  come  yet?"  called  Alfred  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Not  yet,  Alfred,"  said  Aggie,  and  she  closed 
the  door  very  softly,  lest  Alfred  should  hear  her. 

"  I  never  knew  Alfred  could  be  so  silly ! " 
snapped  Zoie. 

"  Sh !  sh !  "  warned  Aggie,  and  she  glanced  anx- 
iously toward  Alfred's  door. 

"  He  doesn't  care  a  bit  about  me !  "  complained 
Zoie.  "It's  all  that  horrid  old  baby  that  he's 
never  seen." 

"  If  Jimmy   doesn't   come   soon,   he   never  icill 


122  Baby  Mine 

see  it,"  declared  Aggie,  and  she  started  toward 
the  window  to  look  out. 

Just  then  there  was  a  short  quick  ring  of  the 
bell.  The  two  women  glanced  at  each  other  with 
mingled  hope  and  fear.  Then  their  eyes  sought 
the  door  expectantly. 


CHAPTER     XVII 

WITH  the  collar  of  his  long  ulster  pushed  high 
and  the  brim  of  his  derby  hat  pulled  low,  Jimmy 
Jinks  crept  cautiously  into  the  room.  When  he 
at  length  ceased  to  glance  over  his  shoulder  and 
came  to  a  full  stop,  Aggie  perceived  a  bit  of  white 
flannel  hanging  beneath  the  hem  of  his  tightly  but- 
toned coat. 

"  You've  got  it !  "  she  cried. 

"Where  is  it?"  asked  Zoie. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  demanded  Aggie. 

Jimmie  stared  at  them  as  though  stupefied,  then 
glanced  uneasily  over  his  shoulder,  to  make  sure 
that  no  one  was  pursuing  him.  Aggie  unbut- 
toned his  ulster,  seized  a  wee  mite  wrapped  in  a 
large  shawl,  and  clasped  it  to  her  bosom  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  "  Thank  heaven !  "  she  exclaimed, 
then  crossed  quickly  to  the  bassinette  and  depos- 
ited her  charge. 

In  the  meantime,  having  thrown  discretion  to 
the  wind,  Zoie  had  hopped  out  of  bed.  As  usual, 
her  greeting  to  Jimmy  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
reproach.  "What  kept  you?"  she  demanded 
crossly. 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  Aggie,  who  was  now  bend- 
ing over  the  crib.  "What  made  you  so  long?  " 

123 


124  Baby  Mine 

"  See  here !  "  answered  Jimmy  hotly,  "  if  you 
two  think  you  can  do  any  better,  you're  welcome 
to  the  job,"  and  with  that  he  threw  off  his  over- 
coat and  sank  sullenly  on  the  couch. 

"  Sh !  sh !  "  exclaimed  Zoie  and  Aggie,  simul- 
taneously, and  they  glanced  nervously  tow.vrd 
Alfred's  bedroom  door. 

Jimmy  looked  at  them  without  comprehend- 
ing why  he  should  "  sh."  They  did  not  bother  to 
explain.  Instead,  Zoie  turned  her  back  upon 
him. 

"  Let's  see  it,"  she  said,  peeping  into  the  bas- 
sinette. And  then  with  a  little  cry  of  disgust 
she  again  looked  at  Jimmy  reproachfully. 
"  Isn't  it  ugly? "  she  said.  Jimmy's  contempt 
for  woman's  ingratitude  was  too  deep  for  words, 
and  he  only  stared  at  her  in  injured  silence.  But 
his  reflections  were  quickly  upset  when  Alfred 
called  from  the  next  room,  to  inquire  again  about 
Baby. 

"  Alfred's  here !  "  whispered  Jimmy,  beginning 
to  realise  the  meaning  of  the  women's  mysterious 
behaviour. 

"  Sh !  sh !  "  said  Aggie  again  to  Jimmy,  and 
Zoie  flew  toward  the  bed,  almost  vaulting  over 
the  footboard  in  her  hurry  to  get  beneath  the 
covers. 

For  the  present  Alfred  did  not,  disturb 
them  further.  Apparently  he  was  still  occupied 
with  his  shaving,  but  just  as  Jimmy  was  about 


Baby   Mine  125 

to  ask  for  particulars,  the  'phone  rang.  The 
three  culprits  glanced  guiltily  at  each  other. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  whispered  Zoie  in  a  frightened 
voice. 

Aggie  crossed  to  the  'phone.  "  Hello,"  she 
called  softly.  "The  Children's  Home?"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

Jimmy  paused  in  the  act  of  sitting  and  turned 
his  round  eyes  toward  the  'phone. 

Aggie's  facial  expression  was  not  reassuring. 
"  But  we  can't,"  she  was  saying ;  "  that's  im- 
possible." 

"What  is  it?"  called  Zoie  across  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  unable  longer  to  endure  the  suspense. 

Aggie  did  not  answer.  She  was  growing  more 
and  more  excited.  "  A  thief !  "  she  cried  wildly, 
over  the  'phone.  "  How  dare  you  call  my  hus- 
band a  thief ! " 

Jimmy  was  following  the  conversation  with 
growing  interest. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Aggie,  then  she  left 
the  receiver  hanging  by  the  cord  and  turned  to 
the  expectant  pair  behind  her.  "  It's  the  Chil- 
dren's Home,"  she  explained.  "  That  awful 
woman  says  Jimmy  stole  her  baby !  " 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Zoie  as  though  such  de- 
pravity on  Jimmy's  part  were  unthinkable.  Then 
she  looked  at  him  accusingly,  and  asked  in  low, 
measured  tones,  "  Did  you  steal  her  baby, 
Jimmy?  " 


126  Baby  Mine 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  to?  "  asked  Jimmy  hotly. 

"  Not  literally,"  corrected  Aggie. 

"How  else  could  I  steal  a  baby:  "  demanded 
Jimmy. 

Zoie  looked  at  the  unfortunate  creature  as  if 
she  could  strangle  him,  and  Aggie  addressed  him 
with  a  threat  in  her  voice. 

"  Well,  the  Superintendent  says  you've  got  to 
bring  it  straight  back." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  myself !  "  said  Jimmy. 

"  He  sha'n't  bring  it  back,"  declared  Zoie. 
"I'll  not  let  him!" 

"  What  shall  I  tell  the  Superintendent?  "  asked 
Aggie,  "  he's  holding  the  wire." 

"  Tell  him  he  can't  have  it,"  answered  Zoie, 
as  though  that  were  the  end  of  the  whole  matter. 

"  Well,"  concluded  Aggie,  "  he  says  if  Jimmy 
doesn't  bring  it  back  the  mother's  coming 
after  it." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  exclaimed  Zoie. 

As  for  Jimmy,  he  bolted  for  the  door.  Aggie 
caught  him  by  the  sleeve  as  he  passed.  "  Wait, 
Jimmy,"  she  said  peremptorily.  There  was  a 
moment  of  awful  indecision,  then  something  ap- 
proaching an  idea  came  to  Zoie. 

"Tell  the  Superintendent  that  it  isn't  here," 
she  whispered  to  Aggie  across  the  footboard. 
"  Tell  him  that  Jimmy  hasn't  got  here  yet." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Jimmy,  "  tell  him  I  haven't  got 
here  yet." 


Baby    Mine  127 

Aggie  nodded  wisely  and  returned  to  the 
'phone.  "  Hello,"  she  called  pleasantly ;  then 
proceeded  to  explain.  "  Mr.  Jinks  hasn't  got 
here  yet."  There  was  a  pause,  then  she  added  in 
her  most  conciliatory  tone,  "  I'll  tell  him  what  you 
say  when  he  comes  in."  Another  pause,  and  she 
hung  up  the  receiver  with  a  most  gracious  good- 
bye and  turned  to  the  others  with  increasing  mis- 
givings. "  He  says  he  won't  be  responsible  for 
that  mother  much  longer — she's  half-crazy." 

"What  right  has  she  to  be  crazy?  "  demanded 
Zoie  in  an  abused  voice.  "  She's  a  widow.  She 
doesn't  need  a  baby." 

"  We!!."  decided  Aggie  after  careful  delibera- 
tion, "  you'd  better  take  it  back,  Jimmy,  before 
Alfred  sees  it." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Zoie  in  protest.  And 
again  Jimmy  bolted,  but  again  he  failed  to  reach 
the  door. 


CHAPTER     XVIII 

His  face  covered  with  lather,  and  a  shaving 
brush  in  one  hand,  Alfred  entered  the  room  just 
as  his  friend  was  about  to  escape. 

"  Jimmy !  "  exclaimed  the  excited  young  father, 
**  you're  back." 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,"  admitted  Jimmy  nervously, 
« I'm  back." 

"  My  boy ! "  cried  Alfred,  and  he  glanced  to- 
ward the  crib.  "  He's  here !  " 

"  Yes — yes,"  agreed  Aggie  uneasily,  as  she 
tried  to  place  herself  between  Alfred  and  the  bas- 
sinette. "  He's  here,  but  you  mayn't  have  him, 
Alfred." 

"  What?  "  exclaimed  Alfred,  trying  to  put  her 
out  of  the  way. 

"  Not  yet,"  protested  Aggie,  "  not  just  yet." 

"  Give  him  to  me,"  demanded  Alfred,  and 
thrusting  Aggie  aside,  he  took  possession  of  the 
small  mite  in  the  cradle. 

"  But — but,  Alfred,"  pleaded  Aggie,  "  your 
face.  You'll  get  him  all  wet." 

Alfred  did  not  heed  her.     He  was  bending  over 

the  cradle  in  an  ecstasy.     "  My  boy !  "  he  cried, 

"  my  boy !  "     Lifting  the  baby  in  his   arms   he 

circled    the    room    cooing    to    him    delightedly,, 

128 


Baby   Mine  129 

"Was  he  away  from  home  when  his  f adder  came? 
Oh,  me,  oh,  my !  Coochy !  Coochy !  Cooc/iy !  " 
Suddenly  he  remembered  to  whom  he  owed  this 
wondrous  treasure  and  forgetful  of  the  lather  on 
his  unshaven  face  he  rushed  toward  Zoie  with  an 
overflowing  heart.  "  My  precious ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, and  he  covered  her  cheek  with  kisses. 

"  Go  away ! "  cried  Zoie  in  disgust  and  she 
pushed  Alfred  from  her  and  brushed  the  hateful 
lather  from  her  little  pink  cheek. 

But  Alfred  was  not  to  be  robbed  of  his  exalta- 
tion, and  again  he  circled  the  room,  making 
strange  gurgling  sounds  to  Baby. 

"  Did  a  horrid  old  Jimmy  take  him  away  from 
f  adder?  "  he  said  sympathetically,  in  the  small 
person's  ear;  and  he  glanced  at  Jimmy  with 
frowning  disapproval.  "I'd  just  like  to  see  him 
get  you  away  from  me  again ! "  he  added  to  Baby, 
as  he  tickled  the  mite's  ear  with  the  end  of  his 
shaving  brush.  "  Oh,  me !  oh,  my ! "  he  ex- 
claimed in  trepidation,  as  he  perceived  a  bit  of 
lather  on  the  infant's  cheek.  Then  lifting  the 
boy  high  in  his  arms  and  throwing  out  his  chest 
with  great  pride,  he  looked  at  Jimmy  with  an  air 
of  superiority.  "  I  guess  I'm  bad,  aye?  "  he  said. 

Jimmy  positively  blushed.  As  for  Zoic,  she 
was  growing  more  and  more  impatient  for  a  little 
attention  to  herself. 

"  Rock-a-bye,  Baby,"  sang  Alfred  in  strident 
tones  and  he  swung  the  child  high  in  his  arms. 


130  Baby  Mine 

Jimmy  and  Aggie  gazed  at  Alfred  as  though 
hypnotised.  They  kept  time  to  his  lullaby  out 
of  sheer  nervousness.  Suddenly  Alfred  stopped, 
held  the  child  from  him  and  gazed  at  it  in  horror. 
"  Good  heavens ! "  he  exclaimed.  The  others 
waited  breathlessly.  "  Look  at  that  baby's  face," 
commanded  Alfred. 

Zoie  and  Aggie  exchanged  alarmed  glances, 
then  Zoie  asked  in  trepidation,  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  his  face?  " 

"  He's  got  a  fever,"  declared  Alfred.  And  he 
started  toward  the  bed  to  show  the  child  to  its 
mother. 

"  Go  away !  "  shrieked  Zoie,  wr.ving  Alfred  off 
in  wild  alarm. 

"  What?  "  asked  Alfred,  backing  from  her  in 
surprise. 

Aggie  crossed  quickly  to  Alfred's  side  and 
looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  boy.  "  I  don't 
see  anything  wrong  with  its  face,"  she  said. 

"It's  scarlet!"  persisted  Alfred. 

"  Oh,"  said  Jimmy  \vith  a  superior  air,  "  they're 
always  like  that." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  snorted  Alfred,  and  he 
glared  at  Jimmy  threateningly.  "  You've  frozen 
the  child  parading  him  around  the  streets." 

"  Let  me  have  him,  Alfred,"  begged  Aggie 
sweetly ;  "  I'll  put  him  in  his  crib  and  keep  him 
warm." 

Reluctantly  Alfred  released  the  boy.     His  eyes 


Baby   Mine  131 

followed  him  to  the  crib  with  anxiety.  "  Where's 
his  nurse?  "  he  asked,  as  he  glanced  first  from  one 
to  the  other. 

Zoie  and  Jimmy  stared  about  the  room  as 
though  expecting  the  desired  person  to  drop  from 
the  ceiling.  Then  Zoie  turned  upon  her  unwary 
accomplice. 

"  Jimmy,"  she  called  in  a  threatening  tone, 
"where  is  his  nurse?" 

"Does  Jimmy  take  the  nurse  out,  too?"  de- 
manded Alfred,  more  and  more  annoyed  by  the 
privileges  Jimmy  had  apparently  been  usurping 
in  his  absence. 

"  Never  mind  about  the  nurse,"  interposed 
Aggie.  "  Baby  likes  me  better  anyway.  I'll 
tuck  him  in,"  and  she  bent  fondly  over  the  crib, 
but  Alfred  was  not  to  be  so  easily  pacified. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  exclaimed  ex- 
citedly, "  that  my  boy  hasn't  any  nurse?  " 

"  We  had  a  nurse,"  corrected  Zoie,  "  but — but 
I  had  to  discharge  her." 

Alfred  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  for  an 
explanation. 

"Discharge  her?"  he  repeated,  "for  what?" 

"  She  was  crazy,"  stammered  Zoie. 

Alfred's  eyes  sought  Aggie's  for  confirmation. 
She  nodded.  He  directed  his  steady  gaze  toward 
Jimmy.  The  latter  jerked  his  head  up  and  down 
in  nervous  assent. 

"  Well,"  said  Alfred,  amazed  at  their  apparent 


132  Baby  Mine 

lack  of  resource,  "  why  didn't  you  get  another 
nurse?  " 

"  -^gg1*6  is  going  *°  stay  and  take  care  of  baby 
to-night,"  declared  Zoie,  and  then  she  beamed 
upon  Aggie  as  only  she  knew  how.  "  Aren't  you, 
dear?  "  she  asked  sweetly. 

'  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Aggie,  studiously 
avoiding  Jimmy's  eye. 

"  Baby  is  going  to  sleep  in  the  spare  room  with 
Aggie  and  Jimmy,"  said  Zoie. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  too  desperate  to 
care  what  Alfred  might  infer. 

Ignoring  Jimmy's  implied  protest,  Zoie  con- 
tinued sweetly  to  Alfred: 

"  Now,  don't  worry,  dear ;  go  back  to  your 
room  and  finish  your  shaving." 

"  Finish  shaving?  "  repeated  Alfred  in  a  puz- 
zled way.  Then  his  hand  went  mechanically  to 
his  cheek  and  he  stared  at  Zoie  in  astonishment. 
"  By  Jove !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it.  That  shows  you  how  excited  I  am." 
And  with  a  reluctant  glance  toward  the  cradle,  he 
went  quickly  from  the  room,  singing  a  high- 
pitched  lullaby. 

Just  as  the  three  conspirators  were  drawing 
together  for  consultation,  Alfred  returned  to  the 
room.  It  was  apparent  that  there  was  some- 
thing important  on  his  mind. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  glancing  from  one  to 
another,  "I  forgot  to  ask — what's  his  name?" 


Baby    Mine  133 

The  conspirators  looked  at  each  other  without 
answering.  To  Alfred  their  delay  was  annoying. 
Of  course  his  son  had  been  given  his  father's  name, 
but  he  wished  to  hear  someone  say  so. 

"  Baby's,   I   mean,"   he   explained   impatiently. 

Jimmy  felt  instinctively  that  Zoie's  eyes  were 
upon  him.  He  avoided  her  gaze. 

"  Jimmy !  "  called  Zoic,  meaning  only  to  appeal 
to  him  for  a  name. 

"  Jimmy !  "  thundered  the  infuriated  Alfred. 
"  You've  called  my  boy  *  Jimmy '  ?  Why 
4  Jimmy'?" 

For  once  Zoie  was  without  an  answer. 

After  waiting  in  vain  for  any  response,  Alfred 
advanced  upon  the  uncomfortable  Jimmy. 

"  You  seem  to  be  very  popular  around  here," 
he  sneered. 

Jimmy  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the 
other  and  studied  the  pattern  of  the  rug  upon 
which  he  was  standing. 

After  what  seemed  an  age  to  Jimmy,  Alfred 
turned  his  back  upon  his  old  friend  and  started 
toward  his  bedroom.  Jimmy  peeped  out  uneasily 
from  his  long  eyelashes.  When  Alfred  reached 
the  threshold,  he  faced  about  quickly  and  stared 
again  at  Jimmy  for  an  explanation.  It  seemed 
to  Jimmy  that  Alfred's  nostrils  were  dilating.  He 
would  not  have  been  surprised  to  see  Alfred  snort 
fire.  He  let  his  eyes  fall  before  the  awful 
spectacle  of  his  friend's  wrath.  Alfred's  upper 


134  Baby  Mine 

lip  began  to  curl.  He  cast  a  last  withering  look 
in  Jimmy's  direction,  retired  quickly  from  the 
scene  and  banged  the  door. 

When  Jimmy  again  had  the  courage  to  lift  his 
eyes  he  was  confronted  by  the  contemptuous  gaze 
of  Zoie,  who  was  sitting  up  in  bed  and  regarding 
him  with  undisguised  disapproval. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  him  what  the  baby's  name 
is?  "  she  demanded. 

"  How  do  /  know  what  the  baby's  name  is  ?  " 
retorted  Jimmy  savagely. 

"  Sh !  sh !  "  cautioned  Aggie  as  she  glanced 
nervously  toward  the  door  through  which  Alfred 
had  just  passed. 

"  What  does  it  matter  what  the  baby's  name  is 
so  long  as  we  have  to  send  it  back?  " 

"  I'll  not  send  it  back,"  declared  Zoie  emphatic- 
ally, "  at  least  not  until  morning.  That  will  give 
Jimmy  a  whole  night  to  get  another  one." 

"  Another !  "  shrieked  Jimmy.  "  See  here,  you 
two  can't  be  changing  babies  every  five  minutes 
without  Alfred  knowing  it.  Even  lie  has  some 
sense." 

"  Nonsense !  "  answered  Aggie  shortly.  "  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  all  young  babies  look 
just  alike.  Their  own  mothers  couldn't  tell  them 
apart,  if  it  weren't  for  their  clothes." 

"  But  where  can  we  get  another?  "  asked  Zoie. 

Before  Aggie  could  answer,  Alfred  was  again 
heard  calling  from  the  next  room.  Apparently 


Baby    Mine  135 

all  his  anger  had  subsided,  for  he  inquired  in  the 
most  amiable  tone  as  to  what  baby  might  be  doing 
and  how  he  might  be  feeling.  Aggie  crossed 
quickly  to  the  door,  and  sweetly  reassured  the 
anxious  father,  then  she  closed  the  door  softly 
and  turned  to  Zoie  and  Jimmy  with  a  new  inspira- 
tion lighting  her  face.  "  I  have  it,"  she  exclaimed 
ecstatically. 

Jimmy  regarded  his  spouse  with  grave  suspi- 
cion. 

"  Now  see  here,"  he  objected,  "  every  time 
you  f  have  it,'  I  do  it.  The  next  time  you  '  have 
it  '  you  do  it!  " 

The  emphasis  with  which  Jimmy  made  his  dec- 
laration deserved  consideration,  but  to  his  amaze- 
ment it  was  entirely  ignored  by  both  women. 
Hopping  quickly  out  of  bed,  without  even  glanc- 
ing in  his  direction,  Zoie  gave  her  entire  attention 
to  Aggie.  "What  is  it?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  There  must  be  other  babies'  Homes,"  said 
Aggie,  and  she  glanced  at  Jimmy  from  her  supe- 
rior height. 

"  They  aren't  open  all  night  like  corner  drug 
stores,"  growled  Jimmy. 

"  Well,  they  ought  to  be,"  decided  Zoie. 

"  And  surely,"  argued  Aggie,  "  in  an  extraor- 
dinary case — like " 

"  This  was  an  '  extraordinary  case,'  "  declared 
Jimmy,  "  and  you  saw  what  happened  this  time, 
and  the  Superintendent  is  a  friend  of  mine — at 


136  Baby  Mine 

least  he  was  a  friend  of  mine."  And  with  that 
Jimmy  sat  himself  down  on  the  far  corner  of  the 
couch  and  proceeded  to  ruminate  on  the  havoc 
that  these  two  women  had  wrought  in  his  once 
tranquil  life. 

Zoie  gazed  at  Jimmy  in  deep  disgust ;  her  friend 
Aggie  had  made  an  excellent  suggestion,  and  in- 
stead of  acting  upon  it  with  alacrity,  here  sat 
Jimmy  sulking  like  a  stubborn  child. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Zoie,  as  her  eyebrows  as- 
sumed a  bored  angle,  "  there  are  some  babies  in 
the  world  outside  of  Children's  Homes." 

"  Of  course,"  was  Aggie's  enthusiastic  re- 
joinder; "there's  one  born  every  minute." 

"  But  I  was  born  between  minutes,"  protested 
Jimmy. 

"Who's  talking  about  you?"  snapped  Zoie. 

Again  Aggie  exclaimed  that  she  "  had  it." 

"  She's  got  it  twice  as  bad,"  groaned  Jimmy, 
and  he  wondered  what  new  form  her  persecution 
of  him  was  about  to  take. 

"  Where  is  the  morning  paper  ?  "  asked  Aggie, 
excitedly. 

"  We  can't  advertise  now"  protested  Zoie. 
"  It's  too  late  for  that." 

"  Sh !  Sh !  "  answered  Aggie,  as  she  snatched 
the  paper  quickly  from  the  table  and  began  run- 
ning her  eyes  up  and  down  its  third  page.  "  Mar- 
ried— married,"  she  murmured,  and  then  with  de- 
light she  found  the  half  column  for  which  she  was 


Baby    Mine  137 

searching.  "  Born,"  she  exclaimed  triumphantly. 
"  Here  we  are !  Get  a  pencil,  Zoie,  and  we'll  take 
down  all  the  new  ones." 

"  Of  course,"  agreed  Zoie,  clapping  her  hands 
in  glee,  "  and  Jimmy  can  get  a  taxi  and  look 
them  right  up." 

"  Oh,  can  he?  "  shouted  Jimmy  as  he  rose  with 
clenched  fists.  "  Now  you  two,  see  here " 

Before  Jimmy  could  complete  his  threat,  there 
was  a  sharp  ring  of  the  door  bell.  He  looked 
at  the  two  women  inquiringly. 

"  It's  the  mother,"  cried  Zoie  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  The  mother ! "  repeated  Jimmy  in  terror  and 
he  glanced  uncertainly  from  one  door  to  the  other. 

"  Cover  up  the  baby !  "  called  Zoie,  and  drawing 
Jimmy's  overcoat  quickly  from  his  arm,  Aggie 
threw  it  hurriedly  over  the  cradle. 

For  an  instant  Jimmy  remained  motionless  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  hatless,  coatless,  and  shorn 
of  ideas.  A  loud  knock  on  the  door  decided  him 
and  he  sank  with  trembling  knees  behind  the  near- 
est armchair,  just  as  Zoie  made  a  flying  leap  into 
the  bed  and  prepared  to  draw  the  cover  over  her 
head. 

The  knock  was  repeated  and  Aggie  signalled  to 
Zoie  to  answer  it. 

"  Come  in !  "  called  Zoie  very  faintly. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

FROM  his  hiding-place  Jimmy  peeped  around 
the  edge  of  the  armchair  and  saw  what  seemed  to 
be  a  large  clothes  basket  entering  the  room. 
Closer  inspection  revealed  the  small  figure  of 
Maggie,  the  washerwoman's  daughter,  propelling 
the  basket,  which  was  piled  high  with  freshly 
laundered  clothing.  Jimmy  drew  a  long  sigh  of 
relief,  and  unknotted  his  cramped  limbs. 

"Shall  I  lay  the  things  on  the  sofa,  mum?  " 
asked  Maggie  as  she  placed  her  basket  on  the 
floor  and  waited  for  Zoie's  instructions. 

"  Yes,  please,"  answered  Zoie,  too  exhausted 
for  further  comment. 

Taking  the  laundry  piece  by  piece  from  the 
basket,  Maggie  made  excuses  for  its  delay,  while 
she  placed  it  on  the  couch.  Deaf  to  Maggie's 
chatter,  Zoie  lay  back  languidly  on  her  pillows ; 
but  she  soon  heard  something  that  lifted  her 
straight  up  in  bed. 

"  Me  mother  is  sorry  she  had  to  kape  you 
waitin'  this  week,"  said  Maggie  over  her  shoul- 
der ;  "  but  we've  got  twins  at  our  house." 

"  Twins !  "  echoed  Zoie  and  Af,gie  simultane- 
ously. Then  together  they  stared  at  Maggie  as 
though  she  had  been  dropped  from  another  world. 
138 


Baby    Mine  139 

Finding  attention  temporarily  diverted  from 
himself,  Jimmy  had  begun  to  rearrange  both 
his  mind  and  his  cravat  when  he  felt  rather 
than  saw  that  his  two  persecutors  were  regard- 
ing him  with  a  steady,  determined  gaze.  In  spite 
of  himself,  Jimmy  raised  his  eyes  to  theirs. 

"  Twins  !  "  was  their  laconic  answer. 

Now,  Jimmy  had  heard  Maggie's  announce- 
ment about  the  bountiful  supply  of  offspring 
lately  arrived  at  her  house,  but  not  until  he  caught 
the  fanatical  gleam  in  the  eyes  of  his  companions 
did  he  understand  the  part  they  meant  him  to 
play  in  their  next  adventure.  He  waited  for  no 
explanation — he  bolted  toward  the  door. 

"  Wait,  Jimmy,"  commanded  Aggie.  But  it 
was  not  until  she  had  laid  firm  hold  of  him  that 
he  waited. 

Surprised  by  such  strange  behaviour  on  the 
part  of  those  whom  she  considered  her  superiors, 
Maggie  looked  first  at  Aggie,  then  at  Jimmy, 
then  at  Zoie,  uncertain  whether  to  go  or  to  stay. 

"  Anythin'  to  go  back,  mum?"  she  stammered. 

Zoie  stared  at  Maggie  solemnly  from  across 
the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  Maggie,"  she  asked  in  a 
deep,  sepulchral  tone,  "where  do  you  live?" 

"  Just  around  the  corner  on  High  Street, 
mum,"  gasped  Maggie.  Then,  keeping  her  eyes 
fixed  uneasily  on  Zoie  she  picked  up  her  basket  and 
backed  cautiously  toward  the  door. 

"  Wait ! "     commanded     Zoie ;     and     Maggie 


140  Baby  Mine 

paused,  one  foot  in  mid-air.  "  Wait  in  the  hall," 
said  Zoie. 

"  Yes'um,"  assented  Maggie,  almost  in  a  whis- 
per. Then  she  nodded  her  head  jerkily,  cast  an- 
other furtive  glance  at  the  three  persons  who  were 
regarding  her  so  strangely,  and  slipped  quickly 
through  the  door. 

Having  crossed  the  room  and  stealthily  closed 
the  door,  Aggie  returned  to  Jimmy,  who  was 
watching  her  with  the  furtive  expression  of  a 
trapped  animal. 

"  It's  Providence,"  she  declared,  with  a  grave 
countenance. 

Jimmy  looked  up  at  Aggie  with  affected  inno- 
cence, then  rolled  his  round  eyes  away  from  her. 
He  was  confronted  by  Zoie,  who  had  approached 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 

"  It's  Fate,"  declared  Zoie,  in  awe-struck  tones. 

Jimmy  was  beginning  to  wriggle,  but  he  kept 
up  a  last  desperate  pretence  of  not  understanding 
them. 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  I'm  going  to  take  the 
wash  to  the  old  lady,"  he  said,  "  for  I'm  not 
going  to  do  it." 

"  It  isn't  the  wash,"  said  Aggie,  and  her  tone 
warned  him  that  she  expected  no  nonsense  from 
him. 

"  You  know  what  we  are  thinking  about  just 
as  well  as  we  do,"  said  Zoie.  "  I'll  write  that 
washerwoman  a  note  and  tell  her  we  must  have 


Baby    Mine  141 

one  of  those  babies  right  now."  And  with  that 
she  turned  toward  her  desk  and  began  rummag- 
ing amongst  her  papers  for  a  pencil  and  pad. 
"  The  luck  of  these  poor,"  she  murmured. 

"  The  luck  of  us,"  corrected  Aggie,  whose 
spirits  were  now  soaring.  Then  she  turned  to 
Jimmy  with  growing  enthusiasm.  "  Just  think 
of  it,  dear,"  she  said,  "  Fate  has  sent  us  a  baby 
to  our  very  door." 

"  Well,"  declared  Jimmy,  again  beginning  to 
show  signs  of  fight,  "  if  Fate  has  sent  a  baby 
to  the  door,  you  don't  need  me,"  and  with  that 
he  snatched  his  coat  from  the  crib. 

"  Wait,  Jimmy,"  again  commanded  Aggie,  and 
she  took  his  coat  gently  but  firmly  from  him. 

"  Now,  see  here,"  argued  Jimmy,  trying  to  get 
free  from  his  strong-minded  spouse,  "  you  know 
perfectly  well  that  that  washerwoman  isn't  going 
io  let  us  have  that  baby." 

"  Nonsense,"  called  Zoie  over  her  shoulder, 
while  she  scribbled  a  hurried  note  to  the  washer- 
woman. "  If  she  won't  let  us  have  it  *  for  keeps,' 
I'll  just  'rent  it.'" 

"  Good  Lord ! "  exclaimed  Jimmy  in  genuine 
horror.  "  Warm,  fresh,  palpitating  babies 
rented  as  you  would  rent  a  gas  stove !  " 

"  That's  all  a  pose,"  declared  Aggie,  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact tone.  "  You  think  babies  *  little  red 
worms,'  you've  said  so." 

Jimmy  could  not  deny  it. 


142  Baby  Mine 

"  She'll  be  only  too  glad  to  rent  it,"  declared 
Zoie,  as  she  glanced  hurriedly  through  the  note 
just  written,  and  slipped  it,  together  with  a  bill, 
into  an  envelope.  "  I'll  pay  her  anything.  It's 
only  until  I  can  get  another  one." 

"  Another ! "  shouted  Jimmy,  and  his  eyes 
turned  heavenward  for  help.  "  An  endless  chain 
with  me  to  put  the  links  together !  " 

"  Don't  be  so  theatrical,"  said  Aggie,  irrita- 
bly, as  she  took  up  Jimmy's  coat  and  prepared 
to  get  him  into  it. 

"  Why  do  you  make  such  a  fuss  about  noth- 
ing? "  sighed  Zoie. 

"  Nothing?  "  echoed  Jimmy,  and  he  looked  at 
her  with  wondering  eyes.  "  I  crawl  about  like  a 
thief  in  the  night  snatching  babies  from  their 
mother's  breasts,  and  you  call  that  nothing?  " 

"  You  don't  have  to  *  crawl,'  "  reminded  Zoie, 
"  you  can  take  a  taxi." 

"  Here's  your  coat,  dear,"  said  Aggie  gra- 
ciously, as  she  endeavoured  to  slip  Jimmy's  limp 
arms  into  the  sleeves  of  the  garment. 

"  You  can  take  Maggie  with  you,"  said  Zoie, 
with  the  air  of  conferring  a  distinct  favour  upon 
him. 

"  And  the  wash  on  my  lap,"  added  Jimmy 
sarcastically. 

"  No,"  said  Zoie,  unruffled  by  Jimmy's  ungra- 
cious behaviour.  "  We'll  send  the  wash  later." 

"  That's  very  kind  of  you,"  sneered  Jimmy,  as 


Baby   Mine  143 

he  unconsciously  allowed  his  arms  to  slip  into  the 
sleeves  of  the  coat  Aggie  was  urging  upon  him. 

"  All  you  need  to  do,"  said  Aggie  complacently, 
"  is  to  get  us  the  baby." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jimmy,  "  and  what  do  you  sup- 
pose my  friends  would  say  if  they  were  to  see  me 
riding  around  town  with  the  wash-lady's  daugh- 
ter and  a  baby  on  my  lap?  What  would  you 
say?  "  he  asked  Aggie,  "if  you  didn't  know  the 
facts?" 

"  Nobody's  going  to  see  you,"  answered  Aggie 
impatiently ;  "  it's  only  around  the  corner.  Go 
on,  Jimmy,  be  a  good  boy." 

"  You  mean  a  good  thing,"  retorted  Jimmy 
without  budging  from  the  spot. 

"  How  ridiculous  !  "  exclaimed  Zoie ;  "  it's  as 
easy  as  can  be." 

"  Yes,  the  first  one  sounded  easy,  too,"  said 
Jimmy. 

"  All  you  have  to  do,"  explained  Zoie,  trying 
to  restrain  her  rising  intolerance  of  his  stupidity, 
"  is  to  give  this  note  to  Maggie's  mother.  She'll 
give  you  her  baby,  you  bring  it  back  here,  we'll 
give  you  this  one,  and  you  can  take  it  right  back 
to  the  Home." 

"  And  meet  the  other  mother,"  concluded 
Jimmy  with  a  shake  of  his  head. 

There  was  a  distinct  threat  in  Zoie's  voice  when 
she  again  addressed  the  stubborn  Jimmy  and  the 
glitter  of  triumph  was  in  her  eyes. 


144  Baby  Mine 

"  You'd  better  meet  here  there  than  here"  she 
warned  him ;  "  you  know  what  the  Superintendent 
said." 

"  That's  true,"  agreed  Aggie  with  an  anxious 
face.  "  Come  now,"  she  pleaded,  "  it  will  only 
take  a  minute ;  you  can  do  the  whole  thing  before 
you  have  had  time  to  think." 

"  Before  I  have  had  time  to  think,"  repeated 
Jimmy  excitedly.  "  That's  how  you  get  me  to 
do  everything.  Well,  this  time  I've  had  time  to 
think  and  I  don't  think  I  will!"  and  with  that 
he  threw  himself  upon  the  couch,  unmindful  of 
the  damage  to  the  freshly  laundered  clothes. 

"  Get  up,"  cried  Zoie. 

"  You  haven't  time  to  sit  down,"  said  Aggie. 

"  I'll  take  time,"  declared  Jimmy.  His  eyes 
blinked  ominously  and  he  remained  glued  to  the 
couch. 

There  was  a  short  silence ;  the  two  women  gazed 
at  Jimmy  in  despair.  Remembering  a  fresh 
grievance,  Jimmy  turned  upon  them. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  "  do  you  two  know  that 
I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  yet?  " 

"  And  do  you  know,"  said  Zoie,  "  that  Alfred 
may  be  back  at  any  minute?  He  can't  stay  away 
forever." 

"Not  unless  he  has  cut  his  throat,"  rejoined 
Jimmy,  "  and  that's  what  I'd  do  if  I  had  a  razor." 

Zoie  regarded  Jimmy  as  though  he  were  be- 
yond redemption.  "  Can't  you  ever  think  of  any- 


Baby   Mine  145 

body  but  yourself?  "  she  asked,  with  a  martyred 
air. 

Had  Jimmy  been  half  his  age,  Aggie  would 
have  felt  sure  that  she  saw  him  make  a  face  at 
her  friend  for  answer.  As  it  was,  she  resolved 
to  make  one  last  effort  to  awaken  her  unobliging 
spouse  to  a  belated  sense  of  duty. 

"  You  see,  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  might  better 
get  the  washerwoman's  baby  than  to  go  from 
house  to  house  for  one,"  and  she  glanced  again 
toward  the  paper. 

"Yes,"  urged  Zoie,  "and  that's  just  what 
you'll  have  to  do,  if  you  don't  get  this  one." 

Jimmy's  head  hung  dejectedly.  It  was  appar- 
ent that  his  courage  was  slipping  from  him.  Ag- 
gie was  quick  to  realise  her  opportunity,  and  be- 
fore Jimmy  could  protect  himself  from  her 
treacherous  wiles,  she  had  slipped  one  arm  coyly 
about  his  neck. 

"  Now,  Jimmy,"  she  pleaded  as  she  pressed  her 
soft  cheek  to  his  throbbing  temple,  and  toyed 
with  the  bay  curl  on  his  perspiring  forehead, 
"wont  you  do  this  little  teeny-weeny  thing  just 
forme?" 

Jimmy's  lips  puckered  in  a  pout;  he  began  to 
blink  nervously.  Aggie  slipped  her  other  arm 
about  his  neck. 

"  You  know,"  she  continued  with  a  baby 
whine,  "  I  got  Zoie  into  this,  and  I've  just  got  to 
get  her  out  of  it.  You're  not  going  to  desert  me, 


146  Baby  Mine 

are  you,  Jimmy?  You  will  help  me,  won't  you, 
dear?"  Her  breath  was  on  Jimmy's  cheek;  he 
could  feel  her  lips  stealing  closer  to  his.  He  had 
not  been  treated  to  much  affection  of  late.  His 
head  drooped  lower — he  began  to  twiddle  the  fob 
on  his  watch  chain.  "Won't  you?"  persisted 
Aggie. 

Jimmy  studied  the  toes  of  his  boots. 

"  Won't  you?  "  she  repeated,  and  her  soft  eye- 
lashes just  brushed  the  tip  of  his  retrousee  nose. 

Jimmy's  head  was  now  wagging  from  side  to 
side. 

"Won't  you?"  she  entreated  a  fourth  time, 
and  she  kissed  him  full  on  the  lips. 

With  a  resigned  sigh,  Jimmy  rose  mechanic- 
ally from  the  heap  of  crushed  laundry  and  held 
out  his  fat  chubby  hand. 

"  Give  me  the  letter,"  he  groaned. 

"  Here  you  are,"  said  Zoie,  taking  Jimmy's 
acquiescence  as  a  matter  of  course;  and  she 
thrust  the  letter  into  the  pocket  of  Jimmy's  ul- 
ster. "  Now,  when  you  get  back  with  the  baby," 
she  continued,  "  don't  come  in  all  of  a  sudden ; 
just  wait  outside  and  whistle.  You  can  whistle, 
can't  you?  "  she  asked  with  a  doubtful  air. 

For  answer,  Jimmy  placed  two  fingers  between 
his  lips  and  produced  a  shrill  whistle  that  made 
both  Zoie  and  Aggie  glance  nervously  toward  Al- 
fred's bedroom  door. 

"  Yes,  you  can  whistle,"  admitted  Zoie,  then 


Baby    Mine  147 

she  continued  her  directions.  "  If  Alfred  is  not 
in  the  room,  I'll  raise  the  shade  and  you  can  come 
right  up." 

"  And  if  he  is  in  the  room  ?  "  asked  Jimmy  with 
a  fine  shade  of  sarcasm. 

"  If  he  is  in  the  room,"  explained  Zoie,  "  you 
must  wait  outside  until  I  can  get  rid  of  him." 

Jimmy  turned  his  eyes  toward  Aggie  to  ask 
if  it  were  possible  that  she  still  approved  of 
Zoie's  inhuman  plan.  For  answer  Aggie  stroked 
his  coat  collar  fondly. 

"  We'll  give  you  the  signal  the  moment  the 
coast  is  clear,"  she  said,  then  she  hurriedly  but- 
toned Jimmy's  large  ulster  and  wound  a  muffler 
about  his  neck.  "  There  now,  dear,  do  go,  you're 
all  buttoned  up,"  and  with  that  she  urged  him  to- 
ward the  door. 

"  Just  a  minute,"  protested  Jimmy,  as  he 
paused  on  the  threshold.  "  Let  me  get  this  right, 
if  the  shade  is  up,  I  stay  down." 

"  Not  at  all,"  corrected  Aggie  and  Zoie  in  a 
breath.  "  If  the  shade  is  up,  you  come  up." 

Jimmy  cast  another  martyred  look  in  Zoie's 
direction. 

"You  won't  hurry  will  you?"  he  said,  "you 
know  it  is  only  twenty-three  below  zero  and  I 
haven't  had  anything  to  eat  yet — and " 

"  Yes,  we  know,"  interrupted  the  two  women 
in  chorus,  and  then  Aggie  added  wearily,  "  go 
on,  Jimmy;  don't  be  funny." 


148  Baby  Mine 

"Funny?"  snorted  Jimmy.  "With  a  baby 
on  my  lap  and  the  wash  lady's  daughter,  I  won't 
be  funny,  oh  no !  " 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Jimmy  would  not  liave 
worked  himself  into  another  state  of  open  rebel- 
lion had  not  Aggie  put  an  end  to  his  pro- 
tests by  thrusting  him  firmly  out  of  the  room  and 
closing  the  door  behind  him.  After  this  act  of 
heroic  decision  on  her  part,  the  two  women  lis- 
tened intently,  fearing  that  he  might  return;  but 
presently  they  heard  the  bang  of  the  outer  door, 
and  at  last  they  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 
For  the  first  time  since  Alfred's  arrival,  Aggie 
was  preparing  to  sink  into  a  chair,  when  she  was 
startled  by  a  sharp  exclamation  from  Zoie. 

"  Good  heavens,"  cried  Zoie,  "  I  forgot  to  ask 
Maggie." 

"Ask  her  what?"  questioned  Aggie. 

"  Boys  or  girls,"  said  Zoie,  with  a  solemn  look 
toward  the  door  through  which  Jimmy  had  just 
disappeared. 

"  Well,"  decided  Aggie,  after  a  moment's  re- 
flection, "  it's  too  late  now.  Anyway,"  she 
concluded  philosophically,  "  we  couldn't  change 
it." 


CHAPTER     XX 

WITH  more  or  less  damage  to  himself  conse- 
quent on  his  excitement,  Alfred  completed  his 
shaving  and  hastened  to  return  to  his  wife  and 
the  babe.  Finding  the  supposedly  ill  Zoie  ca- 
reering about  the  centre  of  the  room  expostulat- 
ing with  Aggie,  the  young  man  stopped  dumb- 
founded on  the  threshold. 

"  Zoie,"  he  cried  in  astonishment.  "  What  are 
you  doing  out  of  bed?  " 

For  an  instant  the  startled  Zoie  gazed  at  him 
stupefied. 

"  Why,  I — I "  Her  eyes  sought  Aggie's 

for  a  suggestion ;  there  was  no  answer  there.  It 
was  not  until  her  gaze  fell  upon  the  cradle  that 
she  was  seized  by  the  desired  inspiration. 

"  I  just  got  up  to  see  baby,"  she  faltered, 
then  putting  one  hand  giddily  to  her  head,  she 
pretended  to  sway. 

In  an  instant  Alfred's  arms  were  about  her. 
He  bore  her  quickly  to  the  bed.  "  You  stay 
here,  my  darling,"  he  said  tenderly.  "  I'll 
bring  baby  to  you,"  and  after  a  solicitous  caress 
he  turned  toward  baby's  crib  and  bent  fondly 
over  the  little  one.  "  Ah,  there's  father's  man.," 
he  said.  "Was  he  lonesome  baby?  Oh,  goodis 

149 


150  Baby  Mine 

g'acious,"  then  followed  an  incoherent  muttering 
of  baby  talk,  as  he  bore  the  youngster  toward 
Zoie's  bed.  "  Come,  my  precious,"  he  called  to 
Zoie,  as  he  sank  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
"  See  mother's  boy." 

"  Mother !  "  shrieked  Zoie  in  horror.  It  had 
suddenly  dawned  upon  her  that  this  was  the 
name  by  which  Alfred  would  no  doubt  call  her 
for  the  rest  of  her  life.  She  almost  detested 
him. 

But  Alfred  did  not  see  the  look  of  disgust  on 
Zoie's  face.  He  was  wholly  absorbed  by  baby. 

"  What  a  funny  face,"  he  cooed  as  he  pinched 
the  youngster's  cheek.  "  Great  Scott,  what  a 
grip,"  he  cried  as  the  infant's  fingers  closed 
around  his  own.  "  Will  you  look  at  the  size  of 
those  hands,"  he  exclaimed. 

Zoie  and  Aggie  exchanged  worried  glances ;  the 
baby  had  no  doubt  inherited  his  large  hands  from 
his  mother. 

"  Say,  Aggie,"  called  Alfred,  "  what  are  all  of 
these  little  specks  on  baby's  forehead?"  He 
pointed  toward  the  infant's  brow.  "  One,  two, 
three,"  he  counted. 

Zoie  was  becoming  more  and  more  uncomfort- 
able at  the  close  proximity  of  the  little  stranger. 

"  Oh,"  said  Aggie,  with  affected  carelessness 
as  she  leaned  over  Alfred's  shoulder  and  glanced 
at  baby's  forehead.  "  That  is  just  a  little  rash." 

"  A  rash !  "  exclaimed  Alfred  excitedly,  "  that's 


Baby   Mine  151 

dangerous,  isn't  it?  We'd  better  call  up  the  doc- 
tor." And  he  rose  and  started  hurriedly  toward 
the  telephone,  baby  in  arms. 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  called  Zoie,  filled  with  vagu3 
alarm  at  the  thought  of  the  family  physician's 
appearance  and  the  explanations  that  this  might 
entail. 

Stepping  between  Alfred  and  the  'phone,  Aggie 
protested  frantically.  "  You  see,  Alfred,"  she 
said,  "it  is  better  to  have  the  rash  out,  it  won't 
do  any  harm  unless  it  turns  in." 

"  He's  perfectly  well,"  declared  Zoie,  "  if 
you'll  only  put  him  in  his  crib  and  leave  him 
alone." 

Alfred  looked  down  at  his  charge.  "  Is  that 
right,  son?"  he  asked,  and  he  tickled  the  little 
fellow  playfully  in  the  ribs.  "  I'll  tell  you  what," 
he  called  over  his  shoulder  to  Zoie,  "  he's  a  fine 
looking  boy."  And  then  with  a  mysterious  air, 
he  nodded  to  Aggie  to  approach.  "Whom  does 
he  look  like?  "  he  asked. 

Again  Zoie  sat  up  in  anxiety.  Aggie  glanced 
at  her,  uncertain  what  answer  to  make. 

"  I — I  hadn't  thought,"  she  stammered  weakly. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  exclaimed  the  proud  young 
father,  "  you  can't  tell  me  that  you  can  look  at 
that  boy  and  not  see  the  resemblance." 

"  To  whom  ?  "  asked  Aggie,  half  fearfully. 

"  Why,"  said  Alfred,  "  he's  the  image  of  Zoie." 

Zoie  gazed   at   the   puckered  red   face  in  Al- 


152  Baby  Mine 

f  red's  arms.  "  What !  "  she  shrieked  in  disgust, 
then  fall  back  on  her  pillows  and  drew  the  lace 
coverlet  over  her  face. 

Mistaking  Zoie's  feeling  for  one  of  embarrass- 
ment at  being  over-praised,  Alfred  bore  the  in- 
fant to  her  bedside.  "  See,  dear,"  he  persisted, 
"  see  for  yourself,  look  at  his  forehead." 

"  I'd  rather  look  at  you,"  pouted  Zoie,  peeping 
from  beneath  the  coverlet,  "  if  you  would  only 
put  that  thing  down  for  a  minute." 

"  Thing?  "  exclaimed  Alfred,  as  though  doubt- 
ing his  own  ears.  But  before  he  could  remon- 
strate further,  Zoie's  arms  were  about  his  neck 
and  she  was  pleading  jealously  for  his  attention. 

"  Please,  Alfred,"  she  begged,  "  I  have  scarcely 
had  a  look  at  you,  yet." 

Alfred  shook  his  head  and  turned  to  baby  with 
an  indulgent  smile.  It  was  pleasant  to  have  two 
such  delightful  creatures  bidding  for  his  entire 
attention. 

"  Dear  me,"  he  said  to  baby.  "  Dear  me,  tink 
of  mudder  wanting  to  look  at  a  big  u'gy  t'ing  like 
fadder,  when  she  could  look  at  a  'itty  witty  t'ing 
like  dis,"  and  he  rose  and  crossed  to  the  crib 
where  he  deposited  the  small  creature  with  yet 
more  gurgling  and  endearing. 

Zoie's  dreams  of  rapture  at  Alfred's  home  com- 
ing had  not  included  such  divided  attention  as  he 
was  now  showing  her  and  she  was  growing  more 
and  more  desperate  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 


Baby   Mine  153 

She  resolved  to  put  a  stop  to  his  nonsense  and  to 
make  him  realise  that  she  and  no  one  else  was  the 
lode  star  of  his  existence.  She  beckoned  to  Ag- 
gie to  get  out  of  the  room  and  to  leave  her  a  clear 
field  and  as  soon  as  her  friend  had  gone  quietly 
into  the  next  room,  she  called  impatiently  to  Al- 
fred who  was  still  cooing  rapturously  over  the 
young  stranger.  Finding  Alfred  deaf  to  her  first 
entreaty,  Zoie  shut  her  lips  hard,  rearranged  her 
pretty  head-dress,  drew  one  fascinating  little 
curl  down  over  her  shoulder,  reknotted  the  pink 
ribbon  of  her  negligee,  and  then  issued  a  final  and 
imperious  order  for  her  husband  to  attend  her. 

*'  Yes,  yes,  dear,"  answered  Alfred,  with  a 
shade  of  impatience.  "  I'm  coming,  I'm  coming." 
And  bidding  a  reluctant  farewell  to  the  small  per- 
son in  the  crib,  he  crossed  to  her  side. 

Zoie  caught  Alfred's  hand  and  drew  him  down 
to  her;  he  smiled  complacently. 

"  Well,"  he  said  in  the  patronising  tone  that 
Zoie  always  resented.  "  How  is  hubby's  little 
girl?" 

"  It's  about  time,"  pouted  Zoie,  "  that  you 
made  a  little  fuss  over  me  for  a  change." 

"  My  own !  "  murmured  Alfred.  He  stooped 
to  kiss  the  eager  lips,  but  just  as  his  young  wife 
prepared  to  lend  herself  to  his  long  delayed  em- 
brace, his  mind  was  distracted  by  an  uneasy 

thought.  "Do  you  think  that  Baby  is " 

He  was  not  permitted  to  finish  the  sentence. 


154  Baby  Mine 

Zoie  drew  him  back  to  her  with  a  sharp  exclama- 
tion. 

"  Think  of  me  for  a  while,"  she  commanded. 

"  My  darling,"  expostulated  Alfred  with  a 
shade  of  surprise  at  her  vehemence.  "  How 
could  I  think  of  anyone  else?  "  Again  he 
stooped  to  embrace  her  and  again  his  mind  was 
directed  otherwise.  "  I  wonder  if  Baby  is  warm 
enough,"  he  said  and  attempted  to  rise. 

"  Wonder  about  me  for  a  while,"  snapped  Zoie, 
clinging  to  him  determinedly. 

Again  Alfred  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 
Was  it  possible  there  was  anything  besides  Baby 
worth  wondering  about?  Whether  there  was  or 
not,  Zoie  was  no  longer  to  be  resisted  and  with  a 
last  regretful  look  at  the  crib,  he  resigned  him- 
self to  giving  his  entire  attention  to  his  spoiled 
young  wife. 

Gratified  by  her  hard-won  conquest,  Zoie  now 
settled  herself  in  Alfred's  arms. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  what  you  did  all 
the  time  that  you  were  away,"  she  reminded 
him. 

"  Oh,  there  was  plenty  to  do,"  answered 
Alfred. 

"  Did  you  think  of  me  every  minute?  "  she 
asked  jealously. 

"  That  would  be  telling,"  laughed  Alfred,  as 
he  pinched  her  small  pink  ear. 

"  I  wish  to  be  '  told,'  "  declared  Zoie ;  "  I  don't 
suppose  you  realise  it,  but  if  I  were  to  live  » 


Baby    Mine  155 

thousand  years,  I'd  never  be  quite  sure  what  you 
did  during  those  -few  months." 

"  It  was  nothing  that  you  wouldn't  have  been 
proud  of,"  answered  Alfred,  with  an  unconscious 
expansion  of  his  chest. 

"Do  you  love  me  as  much  as  ever?"  asked 
Zoie. 

"  Behave  yourself,"  answered  Alfred,  trying 
not  to  appear  flattered  by  the  discovery  that  his 
absence  had  undoubtedly  caused  her  great  un- 
easiness. 

"  Well,  say  it !  "  demanded  Zoie. 

"  You  know  I  do,"  answered  Alfred,  with  the 
diffidence  of  a  school  boy. 

"  Then  kiss  me,"  concluded  Zoie,  with  an  air 
of  finality  that  left  Alfred  no  alternative. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Alfred  was  no  longer  seek- 
ing an  alternative.  He  was  again  under  the  spell 
of  his  wife's  adorable  charms  and  he  kissed  her 
not  once,  but  many  times. 

"  Foolish  child,"  he  murmured,  then  he  laid  her 
tenderly  against  the  large  white  pillows,  remon- 
strating with  her  for  being  so  spoiled,  and  cau- 
tioning her  to  be  a  good  little  girl  while  he  went 
again  to  see  about  Baby. 

Zoie  clung  to  his  hand  and  feigned  approaching 
tears. 

"You  aren't  thinking  of  me  at  all?"  she 
pouted.  "  And  kisses  are  no  good  unless  you  put 
your  whole  mind  on  them.  Give  me  a  real 
kiss !  "  she  pleaded. 


156  Baby  Mine 

Again  Alfred  stooped  to  humour  the  small  im- 
portunate person  who  was  so  jealous  of  his  every 
thought,  but  just  as  his  lips  touched  her  fore- 
head his  ear  was  arrested  by  a  sound  as  yet  new 
both  to  him  and  to  Zoie.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
listened. 

"What  was  that?"  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Zoie,  wondering  if 
the  cat  could  have  got  into  the  room. 

A  redoubled  effort  on  the  part  of  the  young 
stranger  directed  their  attention  in  the  right  di- 
rection. 

"  My  God ! "  exclaimed  Alfred  tragically, 
"  it's  Baby.  He's  crying."  And  with  that,  he 
rushed  to  the  crib  and  clasped  the  small  mite 
close  to  his  breast,  leaving  Zoie  to  pummel  the 
pillows  in  an  agony  of  vexation. 

After  vain  cajoling  of  the  angry  youngster, 
Alfred  bore  him  excitedly  to  Zoie's  bedside. 

"  You'd  better  take  him,  dear,"  he  said. 

To  the  young  husband's  astonishment,  Zoie 
waved  him  from  her  in  terror,  and  called  loudly 
for  Aggie.  But  no  sooner  had  Aggie  appeared 
on  the  scene,  than  a  sharp  whistle  was  heard  from 
the  pavement  below. 

"  Pull  down  the  shade !  "  cried  Zoie  frantically. 

Aggie  hastened  toward  the  window. 

Attributing  Zoie's  uneasiness  to  a  caprice  of 
modesty,  Alfred  turned  from  the  cradle  to  reas- 
sure her. 


Baby   Mine  157 

"  No  one  can  see  in  way  up  here,"  he  said. 

To  Zoie's  distress,  the  lowering  of  the  shade 
was  answered  by  a  yet  shriller  whistle  from  the 
street  below. 

"  Was  it  *  up  '  or  *  down  '?  "  cried  Zoie  to  Ag- 
gie in  an  agony  of  doubt,  as  she  tried  to  recall 
her  instructions  to  Jimmy. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Aggie.  "  I've  for- 
gotten." 

Another  impatient  whistle  did  not  improve 
their  memory.  Alarmed  by  Zoie's  increasing  ex- 
citement, and  thinking  she  was  troubled  merely 
by  a  sick  woman's  fancy  that  someone  might  see 
through  the  window,  Alfred  placed  the  babe 
quickly  in  its  cradle  and  crossed  to  the  young 
wife's  bed. 

"  It  was  up,  dear,"  he  said.  "  You  had  Aggie 
put  it  down." 

"  Then  I  want  it  up,"  declared  the  seemingly 
perverse  Zoie. 

"  But  it  was  up,"  argued  Alfred. 

A  succession  of  emotional  whistles  set  Zoie  to 
pounding  the  pillows. 

"  Put  it  down !  "  she  commanded. 

"  But  Zoie "  protested  Alfred. 

"Did  I  say  *  up '  or  did  I  say  *down'?" 
moaned  the  half-demented  Zoie,  while  long  whis- 
tles and  short  whistles,  appealing  whistles  and 
impatient  whistles  followed  each  other  in  quick 
succession. 


158  Baby  Mine 

"  You  said  down,  dear,"  persisted  Alfred,  now 
almost  as  distracted  as  his  wife. 

Zoie  waved  him  from  the  room.  "  I  wish  you'd 
get  out  of  here,"  she  cried ;  "  you  make  me  so 
nervous  that  I  can't  think  at  all." 

"  Of  course,  dear,"  murmured  Alfred,  "  if  you 
wish  it."  And  with  a  hurt  and  perplexed  expres- 
sion on  his  face  he  backed  quickly  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER     XXI 

WHEN  Zoie's  letter  asking  for  the  O'Flarety 
twin  had  reached  that  young  lady's  astonished 
mother,  Mrs.  O'Flarety  felt  herself  suddenly 
lifted  to  a  position  of  importance. 

"  Think  of  the  purty  Mrs.  Hardy  a  wantin' 
my  little  Bridget,"  she  exclaimed,  and  she  began 
to  dwell  upon  the  romantic  possibilities  of  her  off- 
spring's future  under  the  care  of  such  a  "  foine 
stylish  lady  and  concluded  by  declaring  it  *  a 
lucky  day  entoirely.' ' 

Jimmy  had  his  misgivings  about  it  being  Brid- 
get's "  lucky  day,"  but  it  was  not  for  him  to 
delay  matters  by  dwelling  upon  the  eccentricities 
of  Zoie's  character,  and  when  Mrs.  O'Flarety 
had  deposited  Bridget  in  Jimmy's  short  arms  and 
slipped  a  well  filled  nursing  bottle  into  his  over- 
coat pocket,  he  took  his  leave  hastily,  lest  the 
excited  woman  add  Bridget's  twin  to  her  willing 
offering. 

Once  out  of  sight  of  the  elated  mother,  Jimmy 
thrust  the  defenceless  Bridget  within  the  folds 
of  his  already  snug  ulster,  buttoned  the  garment 
in  such  places  as  it  would  meet,  and  made  for  the 
taxi  which,  owing  to  the  upset  condition  of  the 

159 


160  Baby  Mine 

street,  he  had  been  obliged  to  abandon  at  the 
corner. 

Whether  the  driver  had  obtained  a  more  prom- 
ising "  fare  "  or  been  run  in  by  the  police,  Jimmy 
never  knew.  At  any  rate  it  was  in  vain  that  he 
looked  for  his  vehicle.  So  intense  was  the  cold 
that  it  was  impossible  to  wait  for  a  chance  taxi ; 
furthermore,  the  meanness  of  the  district  made  it 
extremely  unlikely  that  one  would  appear,  and 
glancing  guiltily  behind  him  to  make  sure  that 
no  one  was  taking  cognisance  of  his  strange  ex- 
ploit, Jimmy  began  picking  his  way  along  dark 
lanes  and  avoiding  the  lighted  thoroughfare  on 
which  the  "  Sherwood  "  was  situated,  until  he  was 
within  a  block  of  his  destination. 

Panting  with  haste  and  excitement,  he  even- 
tually gained  courage  to  dash  through  a  side 
street  that  brought  him  within  a  few  doors  of  the 
"  Sherwood."  Again  glancing  behind  him,  he 
turned  the  well  lighted  corner  and  arrived  beneath 
Zoie's  window  to  find  one  shade  up  and  one  down. 
In  his  perplexity  he  emitted  a  faint  whistle.  Im- 
mediately he  saw  the  other  shade  lowered.  Uncer- 
tain as  to  what  arrangement  he  had  actually  made 
with  Zoie,  he  ventured  a  second  whistle.  The 
result  was  a  hysterical  running  up  and  down  of 
the  shade  which  left  him  utterly  bewildered  as  to 
what  disposition  he  was  supposed  to  make  of  the 
wobbly  bit  of  humanity  pressed  against  his  shirt 
front. 


Baby   Mine  161 

Reaching  over  his  artificially  curved  figure  to 
grasp  a  bit  of  white  that  trailed  below  his  coat, 
he  looked  up  to  see  a  passing  policeman  eyeing 
him  suspiciously. 

"Taking  the  air?"  asked  the  policeman. 

"  Ye-yes,"  mumbled  Jimmy  with  affected  non- 
chalence  and  he  knocked  the  heels  of  his  boots  to- 
gether in  order  to  keep  his  teeth  from  chatter- 
ing. "  It's  a  fi-fine  ni-night  for  air,"  he  stut- 
tered. 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  the  policeman,  and  to  Jimmy's 
horror,  he  saw  the  fellow's  eyes  fix  themselves  on 
the  bit  of  white. 

"  Go-good-night,"  stammered  Jimmy  hur- 
riedly, and  trying  to  assume  an  easy  stride  in 
spite  of  the  uncomfortable  addition  to  his  already 
rotund  figure,  he  slipped  into  the  hotel,  where 
avoiding  the  lighted  elevator,  he  laboured  quickly, 
up  the  stairs. 

At  the  very  moment  when  Zoie  was  driving 
Alfred  in  consternation  from  the  room,  Jimmy 
entered  it  uninvited. 

"  Get  out,"  was  the  inhospitable  greeting  re- 
ceived simultaneously  from  Zoie  and  Aggie,  and 
Avithout  waiting  for  further  instructions  he 
"  got." 

Fortunately  for  all  concerned,  Alfred,  who  was 
at  the  same  moment  departing  by  way  of  the  bed- 
room door,  did  not  look  behind  him;  but  it  was 
some  minutes  before  Aggie  who  had  followed 


162  Baby  Mine 

Jimmy  into  the  hall  could  persuade  him  to  re- 
turn. 

After  repeated  and  insistent  signals  both  from 
Aggie  and  Zoie,  Jimmy's  round  red  face  ap- 
peared cautiously  around  the  frame  of  the  door. 
It  bore  unmistakable  indications  of  apoplexy. 
But  the  eyes  of  the  women  were  not  upon  Jimmy's 
face ;  they  too  had  caught  sight  of  the  bit  of  white 
that  hung  below  his  coat,  and  dragging  him 
quickly  into  the  room  and  closing  the  door,  Ag- 
gie proceeded  without  inquiry  or  thanks  to  un- 
button his  coat  and  to  take  from  beneath  it  the 
small  object  for  which  she  and  Zoie  had  been 
eagerly  waiting. 

"  Thank  Heaven ! "  sighed  Zoie,  as  she  saw 
Aggie  bearing  the  latest  acquisition  to  Alfred's 
rapidly  increasing  family  safely  toward  the  crib. 

Suddenly  remembering  something  in  his  right 
hand  coat  pocket,  Jimmy  called  to  Aggie,  who 
turned  to  him  and  waited  expectantly.  After 
characteristic  fumbling,  he  produced  a  well  filled 
nursing  bottle. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Zoie. 

"  For  Her,"  grunted  Jimmy,  and  he  nodded 
toward  the  bundle  in  Aggie's  arms. 

"  Her!  "  cried  Zoie  and  Aggie  in  chorus.  Zoie 
shut  her  lips  hard  and  gazed  at  him  with  con- 
tempt. 

"  I  might  have  known  you'd  get  the  wrong 
kind,"  she  said. 


Baby   Mine  1655 

What  Jimmy  thought  about  the  ingratitude  of 
woman  was  not  to  be  expressed  in  language. 
He  controlled  himself  as  well  as  he  could  and 
merely  looked  the  things  that  he  would  like  to 
have  said. 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped  now,"  decided  the 
philosophic  Aggie;  "here,  Jimmy,"  she  said, 
"  you  hold  *  her  '  a  minute  and  I'll  get  you  the 
other  one." 

Placing  the  small  creature  in  Jimmy's  protest- 
ing arms,  Aggie  turned  toward  the  cradle  to 
make  the  proposed  exchange  when  she  was  star- 
tled by  the  unexpected  return  of  Alfred. 

Thanks  to  the  ample  folds  of  Jimmy's  ulster, 
he  was  able  to  effectually  conceal  his  charge 
and  he  started  quickly  toward  the  hall,  but  in 
making  the  necessary  detour  around  the  couch 
he  failed  to  reach  the  door  before  Alfred,  who 
had  chosen  a  more  direct  way. 

"  Hold  on,  Jimmy,"  exclaimed  Alfred  good-na- 
turedly, and  he  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his 
friend's  shoulder.  *'  Where  are  you  going?" 

"  I'll  be  back,"  stammered  Jimmy  weakly,  edg- 
ing his  way  toward  the  door,  and  contriving  to 
keep  his  back  toward  Alfred. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  s-aid  Alfred  j  ovially,  as  he 
let  his  hand  slip  onto  Jimmy's  arm,  "  you 
haven't  told  me  the  news  yet." 

"  I'll  tell  you  later,"  mumbled  Jimmy,  still  try- 
ing to  escape.  But  Alfred's  eye  had  fallen  upon. 


164  Baby  Mine 

a  bit  of  white  flannel  dangling  below  the  bottom 
of  Jimmy's  ulster,  it  travelled  upward  to  Jimmy's 
unusually  rotund  figure. 

"What  have  you  got  there?"  he  demanded  to 
know,  as  he  pointed  toward  the  centre  button  of 
Jimmy's  overcoat. 

"Here?"  echoed  Jimmy  vapidly,  glancing  at 
the  button  in  question,  "why,  that's  just  a  lit- 
tle  "  There  was  a  faint  wail  from  the 

depths  of  the  ulster.  Jimmy  began  to  caper 
about  with  elephantine  tread.  "  Oochie,  coochie, 
oochie,"  he  called  excitedly. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you?  "  asked  Alfred. 
The  wail  became  a  shriek.  "  Good  Heavens !  " 
cried  the  anxious  father,  "  it's  my  boy."  And 
with  that  he  pounced  upon  Jimmy,  threw  wide  his 
ulster  and  snatched  from  his  arms  Jimmy's  latest 
contribution  to  Zoie's  scheme  of  things. 

As  Aggie  had  previously  remarked,  all  young 
babies  look  very  much  alike,  and  to  the  inexper- 
ienced eye  of  this  new  and  overwrought  father, 
there  was  no  difference  between  the  infant  that 
he  now  pressed  to  his  breast,  and  the  one  that, 
unsuspected  by  him,  lay  peacefully  dozing  in  the 
crib,  not  ten  feet  from  him.  He  gazed  at  the 
face  of  the  newcomer  with  the  same  ecstasy  that 
he  had  felt  in  the  possession  of  her  predecessor. 
But  Zoie  and  Aggie  were  looking  at  each  other 
with  something  quite  different  from  ecstasy. 

"  My  boy,"  exclaimed  Alfred,  with  deep  emo- 


Baby   Mine  165 

tion,  as  he  clasped  the  tiny  creature  to  his  breast. 
Then  he  turned  to  Jimmy.  "  What  were  you  do- 
ing with  my  baby?"  he  demanded  hotly. 

"  I — I  was  just  taking  him  out  for  a  little 
walk !  "  stammered  Jimmy. 

"You  just  try,"  threatened  Alfred,  and  he 
towered  over  the  intimidated  Jimmy.  "  Are  you 
crazy?  " 

Jimmy  was  of  the  opinion  that  he  must  be 
crazy  or  he  would  never  have  found  himself  in 
such  a  predicament  as  this,  but  the  anxious  faces 
of  Zoie  and  Aggie,  denied  him  the  luxury  of  de- 
claring himself  so.  He  sank  mutely  on  the  end 
of  the  couch  and  proceeded  to  sulk  in  silence. 

As  for  Aggie  and  Zoie,  they  continued  to  gaze 
open-mouthed  at  Alfred,  who  was  waltzing  about 
the  room  transported  into  a  new  heaven  of  delight 
at  having  snatched  his  heir  from  the  danger  of 
another  night  ramble  with  Jimmy. 

"  Did  a  horrid  old  Jimmy  spoil  his  *  itty 
nap  '?  "  he  gurgled  to  Baby.  Then  with  a  sud- 
den exclamation  of  alarm,  he  turned  toward  the 
anxious  women.  "Aggie !  "  he  cried,  as  he  stared 
intently  into  Baby's  face.  "Look — his  rash! 
It's  turned  in!  " 

Aggie  pretended  to  glance  over  Alfred's 
shoulder. 

"  Why  so  it  has,"  she  agreed  nervously. 

"  W^at  shall  we  do?  "  cried  the  distraught  Al- 
xi-ea. 


166  Baby  Mine 

"  It's  all  right  now,"  counselled  Aggie,  "  so 
long  as  it  didn't  turn  in  too  suddenly." 

"  \Ve'd  better  keep  him  warm,  hadn't  we?" 
suggested  Alfred,  remembering  Aggie's  previous 
instructions  on  a  similar  occasion.  "  I'll  put  him 
in  his  crib,"  he  decided,  and  thereupon  he  made  a 
quick  move  toward  the  bassinette. 

Staggering  back  from  the  cradle  with  the  un- 
steadiness of  a  drunken  man  Alfred  called  upon 
the  Diety.  "  What  is  that?  "  he  demanded  as  he 
pointed  toward  the  unexpected  object  before 
him. 

Neither  Zoie,  Aggie,  nor  Jimmy  could  com- 
mand words  to  assist  Alfred's  rapidly  waning 
powers  of  comprehension,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
had  swept  each  face  for  the  third  time  with  a 
look  of  inquiry  that  Zoie  found  breath  to  stam- 
mer nervously,  "  Why — why — why,  that's  the 
other  one." 

"The  other  one?"  echoed  Alfred  in  a  dazed 
manner;  then  he  turned  to  Aggie  for  further  ex- 
planation. 

"  Yes,"  affirmed  Aggie,  with  an  emphatic  nod, 
"the  other  one." 

An  undescribable  joy  was  dawning  on  Alfred's 
face. 

"  You  don't  mean "  He  stared  from  the  in- 
fant in  his  arms  to  the  one  in  the  cradle,  then 
back  again  at  Aggie  and  Zoie.  The  women  sol- 
emnly nodded  their  heads.  Even  Jimmy  unblush- 


Baby    Mine  167 

ingly  acquiesced.  Alfred  turned  toward  Zoie  for 
the  final  confirmation  of  his  hopes. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  assented  Zoie  sweetly,  "  that's 
Alfred." 

What  Jimmy  and  the  women  saw  next  appeared 
to  be  the  dance  of  a  whirling  dervish;  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  was  merely  a  man,  mad  with  delight, 
clasping  two  infants  in  long  clothes  and  circling 
the  room  with  them. 

When  Alfred  could  again  enunciate  distinctly, 
he  rushed  to  Zoie's  side  with  the  babes  in  his 
arms. 

"  My  darling,"  he  exclaimed,  "  why  didn't  you 
tell  me?" 

"  I  was  ashamed,"  whispered  Zoie,  hiding  her 
head  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  the  red  faces  pressed 
close  to  hers. 

"  My  angel !  "  cried  Alfred,  struggling  to  con- 
trol his  complicated  emotions ;  then  gazing  at  the 
precious  pair  in  his  arms,  he  cast  his  eyes  devoutly 
toward  heaven,  "  Was  ever  a  man  so  blessed?  " 

Zoie  peeped  from  the  covers  with  affected  shy- 
ness. 

"  You  love  me  just  as  much?  "  she  queried. 

"  I  love  you  twice  as  much,"  declared  Alfred, 
and  with  that  he  sank  exhausted  on  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  vainly  trying  to  teeter  one  son  on  each 
knee. 


CHAPTER     XXII 

WHEN  Jimmy  gained  courage  to  turn  his  eyes 
in  the  direction  of  the  family  group  he  had  helped 
to  assemble,  he  was  not  reassured  by  the  re- 
proachful glances  that  he  met  from  Aggie  and 
Zoie.  It  was  apparent  that  in  their  minds,  he 
was  again  to  blame  for  something.  Realising 
that  they  dared  not  openly  reproach  him  before 
Alfred,  he  decided  to  make  his  escape  while  his 
friend  was  still  in  the  room.  He  reached  for  his 
hat  and  tiptoed  gingerly  toward  the  door,  but 
just  as  he  was  congratulating  himself  upon  his 
decision,  Alfred  called  to  him  with  a  mysterious 
air. 

"Jimmy,"  he  said,  "just  a  minute,"  and  he 
nodded  for  Jimmy  to  approach. 

It  must  have  been  Jimmy's  guilty  conscience 
that  made  him  powerless  to  disobey  Alfred's  every 
command.  Anyway,  he  slunk  back  to  the  fond 
parent's  side,  where  he  ultimately  allowed  himself 
to  be  inveigled  into  swinging  his  new  watch  be- 
fore the  unattentive  eyes  of  the  red-faced  babes 
on  Alfred's  knees. 

"  Lower,  Jimmy,  lower,"  called  Alfred  as 
Jimmy  absent-mindedly  allowed  the  watch  to 
swing  out  of  the  prescribed  orbit.  "  Look  at 
168 


Baby    Mine  169 

the  darlings,  Jimmy,  look  at  them,"  he  exclaimed 
as  he  gazed  at  the  small  creatures  admiringly. 

"  Yes,  look  at  them,  Jimmy,"  repeated  Zoie, 
and  she  glared  at  Jimmy  behind  Alfred's  back. 

"  Don't  you  wish  you  had  one  of  them, 
Jimmy?"'  asked  Alfred. 

"  Well,  7  wish  he  had,"  commented  Zoie,  and 
she  wondered  how  she  was  ever  again  to  detach 
either  of  them  from  Alfred's  breast. 

Before  she  could  form  any  plan,  the  telephone 
rang  loud  and  persistently^  Jimmy  glanced 
anxiously  toward  the  women  for  instructions. 

"  I'll  answer  it."  said  Aggie  with  suspicious 
alacrity,  and  she  crossed  quickly  toward  the 
'phone.  The  scattered  bits  of  conversation  that 
Zoie  was  able  to  gather  from  Aggie's  end  of  the 
wire  did  not  tend  to  soothe  her  over-excited  nerves. 
As  for  Alfred,  he  was  fortunately  so  engrossed 
with  the  babies  that  he  took  little  notice  of  what 
Aggie  was  saying. 

"  What  woman?  "  asked  Aggie  into  the  'phone. 
"Where's  she  from?"  The  answer  was  evi- 
dently not  reassuring.  "  Certainly  not,"  ex- 
claimed Aggie,  "  don't  let  her  come  up ;  send  her 
away.  Mrs.  Hardy  can't  see  anyone  at  all." 
Then  followed  a  bit  of  pantomime  between  Zoie 
and  Aggie,  from  which  it  appeared  that  their 
troubles  were  multiplying,  then  Aggie  again  gave 
her  attention  to  the  'phone.  "  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  her,"  she  ribbed,  "  that  woman  must 


170  Baby  Mine 

have  the  wrong  address."  And  with  that  she 
hung  up  the  receiver  and  came  towards  Alfred, 
anxious  to  get  possession  of  his  two  small  charges 
and  to  get  them  from  the  room,  lest  the  mother 
who  was  apparently  downstairs  should  thrust 
herself  into  their  midst. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Aggie?"  asked  Alfred, 
and  he  nodded  toward  the  telephone. 

"  Oh,  just  some  woman  with  the  wrong  ad- 
dress," answered  Aggie  with  affected  carelessness. 
"  You'd  better  let  me  take  the  babies  now,  Al- 
fred." 

"Take  them  where?"  asked  Alfred  with  sur- 
prise. 

"  To  bed,"  answered  Aggie  sweetly,  "  they  are 
going  to  sleep  in  the  next  room  with  Jimmy  and 
me."  She  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  Jimmy's  arm. 

"  What's  the  hurry?  "  asked  Alfred  a  bit  dis- 
gruntled. 

"  It's  very  late,"  argued  Aggie. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  insisted  Zoie.  "  Please,  Al- 
fred," she  pleaded,  "  do  let  Aggie  take  them." 

Alfred  rose  reluctantly.  "  Mother  knows 
best,"  he  sighed,  but  ignoring  Aggie's  out- 
stretched arms,  he  refused  to  relinquish  the  joy 
of  himself  carrying  the  small  mites  to  their  room, 
and  he  disappeared  with  the  two  of  them,  singing 
his  now  favourite  lullaby. 

When  Alfred  had  left  the  room,  Jimmy,  who 
was  now  seated  comfortably  in  the  rocker,  was 


Baby   Mine  171 

rudely  startled  by  a  sharp  voice  at  either  side 
of  him. 

"Well!"  shrieked  Zoie,  with  all  the  disap- 
proval that  could  be  got  into  the  one  small  word. 

"  You're  very  clever,  aren't  you?  "  sneered  Ag- 
gie at  Jimmy's  other  elbow. 

Jimmy  stared  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  A  nice  fix  you've  got  me  into  now,"  reproved 
Zoie. 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  out  when  you  had  the 
chance?  "  demanded  Aggie. 

"  You  would  take  your  own  sweet  time,  wouldn't 
you,"  said  Zoie. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  asked  Aggie. 

"What  does  he  care?"  exclaimed  Zoie,  and 
she  walked  up  and  down  the  room  excitedly,  ob- 
livious of  the  disarrangement  of  her  flying  neg- 
ligee. "  He's  perfectly  comfortable." 

"  Oh  yes,"  assented  Jimmy,  as  he  sank  back 
into  the  rocker  and  began  propelling  himself  to 
and  fro.  "  I  never  felt  better,"  but  a  disinter- 
ested observer  would  have  seen  in  him  the  picture 
of  discomfort. 

"  You're  going  to  feel  a  great  deal  worse"  he 
was  warned  by  Aggie.  "  Do  you  know  who  that 
was  on  the  telephone?  "  she  asked. 

Jimmy  looked  at  her  mutely. 

"  The  mother !  "  said  Aggie  emphatically. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy. 

"  She's  down  stairs,"  explained  Aggie. 


172  Baby  Mine 

Jimmy  had  stopped  rocking — his  face  now 
wore  an  uneasy  expression. 

"  It's  time  you  showed  a  little  human  intelli- 
gence," taunted  Zoie,  then  she  turned  her  back 
upon  him  and  continued  to  Aggie,  "  what  did  she 
say?" 

"  She  says,"  answered  Aggie,  with  a  threaten- 
ing glance  toward  Jimmy,  "  that  she  won't  leave 
this  place  until  Jimmy  gives  her  baby  back." 

"  Let  her  have  her  old  baby,"  said  Jimmy. 
"  I  don't  want  it." 

"  You  don't  want  it?"  snapped  Zoie  indig- 
nantly, "  what  have  you  got  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Oh  nothing,  nothing,"  acquiesced  Jimmy 
meekly,  "  I'm  a  mere  detail." 

"  A  lot  you  care  what  becomes  of  me,"  ex- 
claimed Zoie  reproachfully;  then  she  turned  to 
Aggie  with  a  decided  nod.  "  Well,  I  want  it," 
she  asserted. 

"  But  Zoie,"  protested  Aggie  in  astonishment, 
"  you  can't  mean  to  keep  both  of  them?  " 

"  I  certainly  do"  said  Zoie. 

"What?"  cried  Aggie  and  Jimmy  in  concert. 

"  Jimmy  has  presented  Alfred  with  twins,"  con- 
tinued Zoie  testily,  "  and  now,  he  has  to  have 
twins." 

Jimmy's  eyes  were  growing  rounder  and 
rounder. 

"  Do  you  know,"  continued  Zoie,  with  a  grow- 
ing sense  of  indignation,  "  what  would  happen  to 


Baby    Mine  173 

me  if  I  told  Alfred  now  that  he  wasn't  the  father 
of  twins?  He'd  fly  straight  out  of  that  door  and 
I'd  never  see  him  again." 

Aggie  admitted  that  Zoie  was  no  doubt  speak- 
ing the  truth. 

"  Jimmy  has  awakened  Alfred's  paternal  in- 
stinct for  twins,"  declared  Zoie,  with  another  em- 
phatic nod  of  her  head,  "  and  now  Jimmy  must 
take  the  consequences." 

Jimmy  tried  to  frame  a  few  faint  objections, 
but  Zoie  waved  him  aside,  with  a  positive  air. 
"  It's  no  use  arguing.  If  it  were  only  one,  it 
wouldn't  be  so  bad,  but  to  tell  Alfred  that  he's 
lost  twins,  he  couldn't  live  through  it." 

"  But  Zoie,"  argued  Aggie,  "  we  can't  have 
that  mother  hanging  around  down  stairs  until 
that  baby  is  an  old  man.  She'll  have  us  arrested, 
the  next  thing." 

"  Why  arrest  us?  "  asked  Zoie,  with  wide  baby 
eyes.  "  We  didn't  take  it.  Old  slow-poke  took 
it."  And  she  nodded  toward  the  now  utterly 
vanquished  Jimmy. 

"  That's  right,"  murmured  Jimmy,  with  a  weak 
attempt  at  sarcasm,  "  don't  leave  me  out  of  any- 
thing good." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  which  one  she  arrests,"  de- 
cided the  practical  Aggie. 

"  Well,  it  matters  to  me,"  objected  Zoie. 

"  And  to  me  too,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you," 
protested  Jimmy. 


174  Baby  Mine 

"  Whoever  it  is,"  continued  Aggie,  "  the  truth 
is  bound  to  come  out.  Alfred  will  have  to  know 
sooner  or  later,  so  we  might  as  well  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  first  as  last." 

"  That's  the  first  sensible  thing  you've  said 
in  three  months,"  declared  Jimmy  with  reviving 
hope. 

"  Oh,  is  that  so  ?  "  sneered  Zoie,  and  she  lev- 
elled her  most  malicious  look  at  Jimmy.  "  What 
do  you  think  Alfred  would  do  to  you,  Mr.  Jimmy, 
if  he  knew  the  truth?  You're  the  one  who  sent 
him  the  telegram;  you  are  the  one  who  told  him 
that  he  was  a  father." 

"  That's  true,"  admitted  Aggie,  with  a  wrin- 
kled forehead. 

Zoie  was  quick  to  see  her  advantage.  She  fol- 
lowed it  up.  "  And  Alfred  hasn't  any  sense  of 
humour,  you  know." 

"  How  could  he  have?  "  groaned  Jimmy;  "  he's 
married."  And  with  that  he  sank  into  his  habit- 
ual state  of  dumps. 

"  Your  sarcasm  will  do  a  great  deal  of  good," 
flashed  Zoie.  Then  she  dismissed  him  with  a  nod, 
and  crossed  to  her  dressing  table. 

"  But  Zoie,"  persisted  Aggie,  as  she  followed 
her  young  friend  in  trepidation,  "  don't  you  real- 
ise that  if  you  persist  in  keeping  this  baby,  that 
mother  will  dog  Jimmy's  footsteps  for  the  rest 
of  his  life?" 

"  That  will  be  nice,"  murmured  Jimmy. 


Baby   Mine  175 

Zoie  busied  herself  with  her  toilet,  and  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  Aggie.  There  was  a  touch  of  gen- 
uine emotion  in  Aggie's  voice  when  she  continued. 

"  Just  think  of  it,  Zoie,  Jimmy  will  never  be 
able  to  come  and  go  like  a  free  man  again." 

"  What  do  I  care  how  he  comes  and  goes  ?  " 
exclaimed  Zoie  impatiently.  "  If  Jimmy  had 
gone  when  we  told  him  to  go,  that  woman  would 
have  had  her  old  baby  by  now;  but  he  didn't,  oh 
no!  All  he  ever  does  is  to  sit  around  and  talk 
about  his  dinner." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Jimmy  hotly,  "  and  that's  about 
as  far  as  I  ever  get  with  it." 

"  You'll  never  get  anywhere  with  anything," 
was  Zoie's  exasperating  answer.  "  You're  too 
slow." 

"  Well,  there's  nothing  slow  about  you,"  re- 
torted Jimmy,  stung  to  a  frenzy  by  her  inso- 
lence. 

"  Oh  please,  please,"  interposed  Aggie,  des- 
perately determined  to  keep  these  two  irascible 
persons  to  the  main  issue.  "  What  are  we  going 
to  tell  that  mother?" 

"  You  can  tell  her  whatever  you  like,"  answered 
Zoie,  with  an  impudent  toss  of  her  head,  "  but  I'll 
not  give  up  that  baby  until  I  get  another  one.': 

"Another?"  almost  shrieked  Jimmy.  It  was 
apparent  that  he  must  needs  increase  the  number 
of  his  brain  cells  if  he  were  to  follow  this  extra- 
ordinary young  woman's  line  of  thought  much 


176  Baby  Mine 

further.  "  You  don't  expect  to  go  on  multiply- 
ing them  forever,  do  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  are  the  one  "who  has  been  multiplying 
them,"  was  Zoie's  disconcerting  reply. 

It  was  evident  to  Jimmy  that  he  could  not 
think  fast  enough  nor  clearly  enough  to  save 
himself  from  a  mental  disaster  if  he  continued  to 
argue  with  the  shameless  young  woman,  so  he  con- 
tented himself  by  rocking  to  and  fro  and  mur- 
muring dismally  that  he  had  "  known  from  the 
first  that  it  was  to  be  an  endless  chain." 

While  Zoie  and  Jimmy  had  been  wrangling, 
Aggie  had  been  weighing  the  pros  and  cons  of 
the  case.  She  now  turned  to  Jimmy  with  a  tone 
of  firm  but  motherly  decision.  "  Zoie  is  quite 
right,"  she  said. 

Jimmy  rolled  his  large  eyes  up  at  his  spouse 
with  a  "  you  too,  Brutus,"  expression. 

Aggie  continued  mercilessly,  "  It's  the  only 
way,  Jimmy." 

No  sooner  had  Aggie  arrived  at  her  decision 
than  Zoie  upset  her  tranquillity  by  a  triumphant 
expression  of  "  I  have  it." 

Jimmy  and  Aggie  gazed  at  Zoie's  radiant  face 
in  consternation.  They  were  accustomed  to  see 
only  reproach  there.  Her  sudden  enthusiasm  in- 
creased Jimmy's  uneasiness. 

"  You  have  it,"  he  grunted  without  attempting 
to  conceal  his  disgust.  "  She's  the  one  who  gen- 
erally has  it."  And  he  nodded  toward  Aggie. 


Baby   Mine  177 

Inflamed  by  her  young  friend's  enthusiasm,  Ag- 
gie rushed  to  her  eagerly. 

"  What  is  it,  Zoie?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  washerwoman ! "  exclaimed  Zoie,  as 
though  the  revelation  had  come  straight  from 
heaven.  "  She  had  twins,"  and  with  that,  two 
pairs  of  eyes  turned  expectantly  toward  the  only 
man  in  the  room. 

Tracing  the  pattern  of  the  rug  with  his  toe, 
Jimmy  remained  stubbornly  oblivious  of  their 
attentions.  He  rearranged  the  pillows  on  the 
couch,  and  finally,  for  want  of  a  better  occupa- 
tion, he  wound  his  watch.  All  to  no  avail.  He 
could  feel  Zoie's  cat-like  gaze  upon  him. 

"  Jimmy  can  get  the  other  one,"  she  said. 

"  The  hell  I  can,"  exclaimed  Jimmy,  starting 
to  his  feet  and  no  longer  considering  time  or 
place. 

The  two  women  gazed  at  him  reproachfully. 

"  Jimmy !  "  cried  Aggie,  in  a  shocked,  hurt 
voice.  "  That's  the  first  time  I've  ever  heard 
you  swear." 

"  Well,  it  won't  be  the  last  time,"  declared 
Jimmy  hotly,  "  if  this  keeps  up."  His  eyes  were 
blazing.  He  paced  to  and  fro  like  an  infuriated 
lion. 

"  Dearest,"  said  Aggie,  "  you  look  almost  im- 
posing." 

"  Nonsense,"  interrupted  Zoie.  who  found 
Jimmy  unusually  ridiculous.  "  If  I'd  known  that 


178  Baby  Mine 

•Jimmy  was  going  to  put  such  an  idea  into  Al- 
fred's head,  I'd  have  got  the  two  in  the  first 
place." 

"  Will  she  let  us  have  the  other  ?  "  asked  Aggie 
with  some  misgiving. 

"  Of  course  she  will,"  answered  Zoie,  leaving 
Jimmy  entirely  out  of  the  conversation.  "  She's 
as  poor  as  a  church  mouse.  I'll  pay  her  well. 
She'll  never  miss  it.  What  could  she  do  with  one 
twin,  anyway  ?  " 

A  snort  of  rage  from  Jimmy  did  not  disturb 
Zoie's  enthusiasm.  She  proceeded  to  elaborate 
her  plan. 

"I'll  adopt  them,"  she  declared,  "I'll  leave 
them  all  Alfred's  money.  Think  of  Alfred  hav- 
ing real  live  twins  for  keeps." 

"It  would  be  nice,  wouldn't  it?"  commented 
Jimmy  sarcastically. 

Zoie  turned  to  Jimmy,  as  though  they  were  on 
the  best  of  terms. 

"How  much  money  have  you?"  she  asked. 

Before  Jimmy  could  declare  himself  penniless, 
Aggie  answered  for  him  with  the  greatest  enthu- 
siasm, "  He  has  a  whole  lot ;  he  drew  some  to- 
day." 

"  Good ! "  exclaimed  Zoie  to  the  abashed 
Jimmy,  and  then  she  continued  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  tone,  "  Now,  Jimmy,"  she  said,  "  you  go  give 
the  washwoman  what  money  you  have  on  account, 
then  tell  her  to  come  around  here  in  the  morning 


Baby    Mine  179 

when  Alfred  has  gone  out  and  I'll  settle  all  the 
details  with  her.  Go  on  now,  Jimmy,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  you  don't  need  another  letter." 

"  No,"  chimed  in  Aggie  sweetly ;  "  you  know 
her  now,  dear." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  corroborated  Jimmy,  with  a  sar- 
castic smile  and  without  budging  from  the  spot 
on  which  he  stood,  "  we  are  great  pals  now." 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Zoie,  astonished 
that  Jimmy  was  not  starting  on  his  mission  with 
alacrity.  "What  are  you  waiting  for?" 

Jimmy  merely  continued  to  smile  enigmatically. 

"  You  know  what  happened  the  last  time  you 
hesitated,"  warned  Aggie. 

"  I  know  what  happened  when  I  didn't  hesi- 
tate," ruminated  Jimmy,  still  holding  his  ground. 

Zoie's  eyes  were  wide  with  surprise.  "  You 
dont  mean  to  say,"  she  exclaimed  incredulously, 
"  that  you  aren't  going — after  we  have  thought 
all  this  out  just  to  save  you?  " 

"  Say,"  answered  Jimmy,  with  a  confidential 
air,  "  do  me  a  favour,  will  you?  Stop  thinking 
out  things  to  *  save  me.'  " 

"  But,  Jimmy "  protested  both  women 

simultaneously;  but  before  they  could  get  fur- 
ther Alfred's  distressed  voice  reached  them  from 
the  next  room. 

"  Aggie !  "  he  called  frantically. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

WHAT   seemed  to  be  a  streak  of  pink  through 
the  room  was  in  reality  Zoie  bolting  for  the  bed. 

While  Zoie  hastened  to  snuggle  comfortably 
under  the  covers,  Aggie  tried  without  avail  to 
get  Jimmy  started  on  his  errand. 

Getting  no  response  from  Aggie,  Alfred,  bear- 
ing one  infant  in  his  arms,  came  in  search  of 
her.  Apparently  he  was  having  difficulty  with 
the  unfastening  of  baby's  collar. 

"  Aggie,"  he  called  sharply,  "  how  on  earth  do 
you  get  this  fool  pin  out  ?  " 

"  Take  him  back,  Alfred,"  answered  Aggie  im- 
patiently ;  "  I'll  be  there  in  a  minute." 

But  Alfred  had  apparently  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  was  not  a  success  as  a  nurse. 

"  You'd  better  take  him  now,  Aggie,"  he  de- 
cided, as  he  offered  the  small  person  to  the  re- 
luctant Aggie.  "I'll  stay  here  and  talk  to 
Jimmy." 

"  Oh,  but  Jimmy  was  just  going  out,"  answered 
Aggie;  then  she  turned  to  her  obdurate  spouse 
with  mock  sweetness,  "Weren't  you,  dear?"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  affirmed  Zoie,  with  a  threatening  glance 
toward  Jimmy.  "  He  was  going,  just  now." 

180 


Baby   Mine  181 

Still  Jimmy  remained  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  Out?  "  questioned  Alfred.     "  What  for?  " 

"  Just  for  a  little  air,"  explained  Aggie 
blandly. 

"  Yes,"  growled  Jimmy,  "  another  little  heir." 

"Air?"  repeated  Alfred  in  surprise.  "He 
had  air  a  while  ago  with  my  son.  He  is  going 
to  stay  here  and  tell  me  the  news.  Sit  down, 
Jimmy,"  he  commanded,  and  to  the  intense  an- 
noyance of  Aggie  and  Zoie,  Jimmy  sank  resignedly 
on  the  couch. 

Alfred  was  about  to  seat  himself  beside  his 
friend,  when  the  'phone  rang  violently.  Being 
nearest  to  the  instrument,  Alfred  reached  it  first 
and  Zoie  and  Aggie  awaited  the  consequences  in 
dread.  What  they  heard  did  not  reassure  them 
nor  Jimmy. 

"  Still  down  there?"  exclaimed  Alfred  into  the 
'phone. 

Jimmy  began  to  wriggle  with  a  vague  uneasi- 
ness. 

"  Well,"  continued  Alfred  at  the  'phone,  "  that 
woman  has  the  wrong  number."  Then  with  a 
peremptory  "  Wait  a  minute,"  he  turned  to  Zoie, 
"  The  hall  boy  says  that  woman  who  called  a 
while  ago  is  still  down  stairs  and  she  won't  go 
away  until  she  has  seen  you,  Zoie.  She  has  some 
kind  of  an  idiotic  idea  that  you  know  where  her 
baby  is." 

"  How  absurd,"  sneered  Zoie. 


182  Baby  Mine 

"  How  silly,"  added  Aggie. 

"  How  foolish,"  grunted  Jimmy. 

"  Well,"  decided  Alfred,  "  I'd  better  go  down 
stairs  and  see  what's  the  matter  with  her,"  and 
he  turned  toward  the  door  to  carry  out  his  in- 
tention. 

"  Alfred !  "  called  Zoie  sharply.  She  was  half 
out  of  bed  in  her  anxiety.  "  You'll  do  no  such 
thing.  'Phone  down  to  the  boy  to  send  her  away. 
She's  crazy." 

"  Oh,"  said  Alfred,  "  then  she's  been  here  be- 
fore? Who  is  she?  " 

"Who  is  she?"  answered  Zoie,  trying  to  gain 
time  for  a  new  inspiration.  "  Why,  she's — 

she's "  her  face  lit  up  with  satisfaction — the 

idea  had  arrived.  "  She's  the  nurse,"  she  con- 
cluded emphatically. 

"  The  nurse?  "  repeated  Alfred,  a  bit  confused. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Zoie,  pretending  to  be  an- 
noyed with  his  dull  memory.  "  She's  the  one  I 
told  you  about,  the  one  I  had  to  discharge." 

"  Oh,"  said  Alfred,  with  the  relief  of  sudden 
comprehension;  "the  crazy  one?" 

Aggie  and  Zoie  nodded  their  heads  and  smiled 
at  him  tolerantly,  then  Zoie  continued  to  elab- 
orate. "  You  see,"  she  said,  "  the  poor  creature 
was  so  insane  about  little  Jimmy  that  I  couldn't 
go  near  the  child." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Alfred  in  a  mighty  rage. 
"  I'll  soon  tell  the  boy  what  to  do  with  her,"  he 


Baby   Mine  183 

declared,  and  he  rushed  to  the  'phone.  Barely 
had  Alfred  taken  the  receiver  from  the  hook  when 
the  outer  door  was  heard  to  bang.  Before  he 
could  speak  a  distracted  young  woman,  whose  ex- 
citable manner  bespoke  her  foreign  origin,  swept 
through  the  door  without  seeing  him  and  hurled 
herself  at  the  unsuspecting  Zoie.  The  woman's 
black  hair  was  dishevelled,  and  her  large  shawl  had 
fallen  from  her  shoulders.  To  Jimmy,  who  was 
crouching  behind  an  armchair,  she  seemed  a 
giantess. 

"  My  baby ! "  cried  the  frenzied  mother,  with 
what  was  unmistakably  an  Italian  accent. 
"Where  is  he?"  There  was  no  answer;  her 
eyes  sought  the  cradle.  "  Ah !  "  she  shrieked, 
then  upon  finding  the  cradle  empty,  she  re- 
redoubled  her  lamentations  and  again  she  bore 
down  upon  the  terrified  Zoie. 

"  You,"  she  cried,  "  you  know  where  my  baby 
is!" 

For  answer,  Zoie  sank  back  amongst  her  pil- 
lows and  drew  the  bed  covers  completely  over  her 
head.  Alfred  approached  the  bed  to  protect  his 
young  wife ;  the  Italian  woman  wheeled  about  and 
perceived  a  small  child  in  his  arms.  She  threw 
herself  upon  him. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  cried ;  "  I  knew  it !  " 

Managing  to  disengage  himself  from  what  he 
considered  a  mad  woman,  and  elevating  one  elbow 
between  her  and  the  child,  Alfred  prevented  the 


184  Baby  Mine 

mother  from  snatching  the  small  creature  from 
his  arms. 

"  Calm  yourself,  madam,"  he  commanded  with 
a  superior  air.  "  We  are  very  sorry  for  you,  of 
course,  but  we  can't  have  you  coming  here  and 
going  on  like  this.  He's  our  baby  and " 

"  He's  not  your  baby ! "  cried  the  infuriated 
mother;  "he's  my  baby.  Give  him  to  me.  Give 
him  to  me,"  and  with  that  she  sprang  upon  the 
uncomfortable  Alfred  like  a  tigress.  Throwing 
her  whole  weight  on  his  uplifted  elbow,  she  man- 
aged to  pull  down  his  arm  until  she  could  look 
into  the  face  of  the  washerwoman's  promising 
young  offspring.  The  air  was  rent  by  a  scream 
that  made  each  individual  hair  of  Jimmy's  head 
stand  up  in  its  own  defence.  He  could  feel  a 
tickly  sensation  at  the  top  of  his  short  thick  neck. 

"  He's  not  my  baby,"  wailed  the  now  demented 
mother,  little  dreaming  that  the  infant  for  which 
she  was  searching  was  now  reposing  comfortably 
on  a  soft  pillow  in  the  adjoining  room. 

As  for  Alfred,  all  of  this  was  merely  confirma- 
tion of  Zoie's  statement  that  this  poor  soul  was 
crazy,  and  he  was  tempted  to  dismiss  her  with 
worthy  forbearance. 

"  I  am  glad,  madam,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are 
coming  to  your  senses." 

Now,  all  would  have  gone  well  and  the  bewil- 
dered mother  would  no  doubt  have  left  the  room 
convinced  of  her  mistake,  had  not  Jimmy's  nerves 


Baby   Mine  185 

got  the  better  of  his  judgment.  Having  slipped 
cautiously  from  his  position  behind  the  armchair 
he  was  tiptoeing  toward  the  door,  and  was  flat- 
tering himself  on  his  escape,  when  suddenly,  as  his 
forward  foot  cautiously  touched  the  threshold,  he 
heard  the  cry  of  the  captor  in  his  wake,  and  be- 
fore he  could  possibly  command  the  action  of  his 
other  foot,  he  felt  himself  being  forcibly  drawn 
backward  by  what  appeared  to  be  his  too 
tenacious  coat-tails. 

"  If  only  they  would  tear,"  thought  Jimmy, 
but  thanks  to  the  excellence  of  the  tailor  that 
Aggie  had  selected  for  him,  they  did  not  "  tear." 

Not  until  she  had  anchored  Jimmy  safely  to 
the  centre  of  the  rug  did  the  irate  mother  pour 
out  the  full  venom  of  her  resentment  toward  him. 
From  the  mixture  of  English  and  Italian  that 
followed,  it  was  apparent  that  she  was  accusing 
Jimmy  of  having  stolen  her  bab}r. 

"  Take  me  to  him,"  she  demanded  tragically ; 
"  my  baby — take  me  to  him !  " 

Jimmy  appealed  to  Aggie  and  Zoie.  Their 
faces  were  as  blank  as  his  own.  He  glanced  at 
Alfred. 

"  Humour  her,"  whispered  Alfred,  much  elated 
by  the  evidence  of  his  own  self-control  as  com- 
pared to  Jimmy's  utter  demoralisation  under  the 
apparently  same  circumstances. 

Still  Jimrn}1"  did  not  budge. 

Alfred  was  becoming  vexed;  he  pointed  first  to 


186  Baby  Mine 

his  own  forehead,  then  to  that  of  Jimmy's  hyster- 
ical captor.  He  even  illustrated  his  meaning  by 
making  a  rotary  motion  with  his  forefinger,  in- 
tended to  remind  Jimmy  that  the  woman  was  a 
lunatic. 

Still  Jimmy  only  stared  at  him  and  all  the  while 
the  woman  was  becoming  more  and  more  emphatic 
in  her  declaration  that  Jimmy  knew  where  her 
baby  was. 

"  Sure,  Jimmy,"  said  Alfred,  out  of  all  patience 
with  Jimmy's  stupidity  and  tiring  of  the  strain 
of  the  woman's  presence.  "  You  know  where  her 
baby  is." 

"  Ah ! "  cried  the  mother,  and  she  towered 
over  Jimmy  with  a  wild  light  in  her  eyes.  "  Take 
me  to  him,"  she  demanded ;  "  take  me  to  him." 

Jimmy  rolled  his  large  eyes  first  toward  Aggie, 
then  toward  Zoie  and  at  last  toward  Alfred. 
There  was  no  mercy  to  be  found  anywhere. 

"  Take  her  to  him.  Jimmy,"  commanded  a  con- 
cert of  voices ;  and  pursued  by  a  bundle  of  waving 
colours  and  a  medley  of  discordant  sounds, 
Jimmy  shot  from  the  room,, 


CHAPTER     XXIV 

THE  departure  of  Jimmy  and  the  crazed  mother 
was  the  occasion  for  a  general  relaxing  among 
the  remaining  occupants  of  the  room.  Ex- 
hausted by  what  had  passed  Zoie  had  ceased 
to  interest  herself  in  the  future.  It  was  enough 
for  the  present  that  she  could  sink  back  upon  her 
pillows  and  draw  a  long  breath  without  an  evil 
face  bending  over  her,  and  without  the  air  being 
rent  by  screams. 

As  for  Aggie,  she  fell  back  upon  the  window 
seat  and  closed  her  eyes.  The  horrors  into  which 
Jimmy  might  be  rushing  had  not  yet  presented 
themselves  to  her  imagination. 

Of  the  three,  Alfred  was  the  only  one  who  had 
apparently  received  exhilaration  from  the  en- 
counter. He  was  strutting  about  the  room  with 
the  babe  in  his  arms,  undoubtedly  enjoying  the 
sensations  of  a  hero.  When  he  could  sufficiently 
control  his  feeling  of  elation,  he  looked  down  at 
the  small  person  with  an  air  of  condescension  and 
again  lent  himself  to  the  garbled  sort  of  language 
with  which  defenceless  infants  are  inevitably 
persecuted. 

"  Tink  of  dat  horrid  old  woman  wanting  to 
steal  our  own  little  oppsie,  woppsie,  toppsie  ba- 

187 


188  Baby  Mine 

bykins,"  he  said.  Then  he  turned  to  Zoie  with 
an  air  of  great  decision.  "  That  woman  ought 
to  be  locked  up,"  he  declared.  "  she's  dangerous," 
and  with  that  he  crossed  to  Aggie  and  hurriedly 
placed  the  infant  in  her  unsuspecting  arms. 
"  Here,  Aggie,"  he  said,  "  you  take  Alfred  and  get 
him  into  bed." 

Glad  of  an  excuse  to  escape  to  the  next  room 
and  recover  her  self  control,  Aggie  quickly  dis- 
appeared with  the  child. 

For  some  moments  Alfred  continued  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  room;  then  he  came  to  a  full  stop 
before  Zoie. 

"  I'll  have  to  have  something  done  to  that 
woman,"  he  declared  emphatically. 

"  Jimmy  will  do  enough  to  her,"  sighed  Zoie, 
weakly. 

"  She's  no  business  to  be  at  large,"  continued 
Alfred;  then,  with  a  business-like  air,  he  started 
toward  the  telephone. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Zoie. 

Alfred  did  not  answer.  He  was  now  calling 
into  the  'phone,  "  Give  me  information." 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing?"  demanded 
Zoie,  more  and  more  disturbed  by  his  mysterious 
manner. 

"  One  can't  be  too  careful,"  retorted  Alfred  in 
his  most  paternal  fashion ;  "  there's  an  awful  lot 
•f  kidnapping  going  on  these  days." 


Baby   Mine  189 

"  Well,  you  don't  suspect  information,  do 
you?  "  asked  Zoie. 

Again  Alfred  ignored  her;  he  was  intent  upon 
things  of  more  importance. 

"  Hello,"  he  called  into  the  'phone,  "  is  this  in- 
formation?" Apparently  it  was  for  he  contin- 
ued, with  a  satisfied  air,  "  Well,  give  me  the 
Fullerton  Street  Police  Station." 

"  The  Police  ?  "  cried  Zoie,  sitting  up  in  bed 
and  looking  about  the  room  with  a  new  sense  of 
alarm. 

Alfred  did  not  answer. 

"Aggie !"  shrieked  the  over-wrought  young  wife. 

Alfred  attempted  to  reassure  her.  "  Now, 
now,  dear,  don't  get  nervous,"  he  said,  "  I  am 
only  taking  the  necessary  precautions."  And 
again  he  turned  to  the  'phone. 

Alarmed  by  Zoie's  summons,  Aggie  entered  the 
room  hastily.  She  was  not  reassured  upon  hear- 
ing Alfred's  further  conversation  at  the  'phone. 

"  Is  this  the  Fullerton  Street  Police  Station?  " 
asked  Alfred. 

"  The  Police ! "  echoed  Aggie,  and  her  eyes 
sought  Zoie's  inquiringly. 

"Sh!  Sh!"  called  Alfred  over  his  shoulder 
to  the  excited  Aggie,  then  he  continued  into  the 
'phone.  "Is  Donneghey  there?"  There  was  a 
pause.  Alfred  laughed  j  ovially.  "  It  is  ?  Well, 
hello,  Donneghey,  this  is  your  old  friend  Hardy, 


190  Baby  Mine 

Alfred  Hardy  at  the  Sherwood.  I've  just  got 
back,"  then  he  broke  the  happy  news  to  the  no 
doubt  appreciative  Donneghey.  "  What  do  you 
think?"  he  said,  "I'm  a  happy  father." 

Zoie  puckered  her  small  face  in  disgust. 

Alfred  continued  to  elucidate  joyfully  at  the 
'phone. 

"  Doubles,"  he  said,  "  yes — sure — on  the 
level." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  have  to  tell  the  whole 
neighbourhood,"  snapped  Zoie.  Her  colour  was 
visibly  rising. 

But  Alfred  was  now  in  the  full  glow  of  his 
genial  account  to  his  friend.  "  Set  'em  up?  "  he 
repeated  in  answer  to  an  evident  suggestion  from 
the  other  end  of  the  line,  "  I  should  say  I  would. 
The  drinks  are  on  me.  Tell  the  boys  I'll  be 
right  over.  And  say,  Donneghey,"  he  added,  in 
a  more  confidential  tone,  "  I  want  to  bring  one 
of  the  men  home  with  me.  I  want  him  to  keep 
an  eye  on  the  house  to-night " ;  then  after  a 
pause,  he  concluded  confidentially,  "  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it  when  I  get  there.  It  looks  like  a 
kidnapping  scheme  to  me,"  and  with  that  he  hung 
up  the  receiver,  unmistakably  pleased  with  him- 
self, and  turned  his  beaming  face  toward  Zoie. 
"  It's  all  right,  dear,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands 
together  with  evident  satisfaction,  "  Donneghey 
is  going  to  let  us  have  a  Special  Officer  to  watch 
the  house  to-night." 


Baby   Mine  191 

"  I  won't  have  a  special  officer,"  declared  Zoie 
vehemently;  then  becoming  aware  of  Alfred's 
great  surprise,  she  explained  half-tearfully,  "  I'm 
not  going  to  have  the  police  hanging  around  our 
very  door.  I  would  feel  as  though  I  were  in 
prison." 

"  You  are  in  prison,  my  dear,"  returned  the 
now  irrepressible  Alfred.  "  A  prison  of  love — 
you  and  our  precious  boys."  He  stooped  and 
implanted  a  gracious  kiss  on  her  forehead,  then 
turned  toward  the  table  for  his  hat.  "  Now," 
he  said,  "I'll  just  run  around  the  corner,  set  up 
the  drinks  for  the  boys,  and  bring  the  officer 
home  with  me,"  and  drawing  himself  up  proudly, 
he  cried  gaily  in  parting,  "  I'll  bet  there's  not 
another  man  in  Chicago  who  has  what  I  have  to- 
night." 

"  I  hope  not,"  groaned  Zoie.  as  the  door  closed 
behind  him.  Then,  thrusting  her  two  small  feet 
from  beneath  the  coverlet  and  perching  on  the 
side  of  the  bed,  she  declared  to  Aggie  that  "Al- 
fred was  getting  more  idiotic  every  minute." 

"  He's  worse  than  idiotic,"  corrected  Aggie. 
"  He's  getting  dangerous.  If  he  gets  the  police 
around  here  before  we  give  that  baby  back,  they'll 
get  the  mother.  She'll  tell  all  she  knows  and  that 
will  be  the  end  of  Jimmy !  " 

"End  of  Jimmy?"  exclaimed  Zoie,  "it'll  be 
the  end  of  all  of  us." 

"  I  can  see  our  pictures  in  the  papers,  right 


192  Baby  Mine 

now,"  groaned  Aggie.  "  Jimmy  will  be  the  vil- 
lain." 

"  Jimmy  is  a  villain,"  declared  Zoie.  "  Where 
is  he?  Why  doesn't  he  come  back?  How  am  I 
ever  going  to  get  that  other  twin?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,"  decided  Ag- 
gie, "  I  must  go  for  it  myself."  And  she  snatched 
up  her  cape  from  the  couch  and  started  toward 
the  door. 

"You?"  cried  Zoie,  in  alarm,  "and  leave  me 
alone?" 

"  It's  our  only  chance,"  argued  Aggie.  "  I'll 
have  to  do  it  now,  before  Alfred  gets  back." 

"  But  Aggie,"  protested  Zoie,  clinging  to  her 
departing  friend,  "  suppose  that  crazy  mother 
should  come  back  ?  " 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Aggie,  and  before  Zoie 
could  actually  realise  what  was  happening  the 
bang  of  the  outside  door  told  her  that  she  was 
alone. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

WONDERING  what  new  terrors  awaited  her,  Zoie 
glanced  uncertainly  from  door  to  door.  So 
strong  had  become  her  habit  of  talcing  refuge  in 
the  bed,  that  unconsciously  she  backed  toward  it 
now.  Barely  had  she  reached  the  centre  of  the 
room  when  a  terrific  crash  of  breaking  glass 
from  the  adjoining  room  sent  her  shrieking  in 
terror  over  the  footboard,  and  head  first  under 
the  covers.  Here  she  would  doubtless  have  re- 
mained until  suffocated,  had  not  Jimmy  in  his 
backward  flight  from  one  of  the  inner  rooms 
overturned  a  large  rocker.  This  additional 
shock  to  Zoie's  overstrung  nerves  forced  a  wild 
scream  from  her  lips,  and  an  answering  exclama- 
tion from  the  nerve-racked  Jimmy  made  her  sit 
bolt  upright.  She  gazed  at  him  in  astonishment. 
His  tie  was  awry,  one  end  of  his  collar  had  taken 
leave  of  its  anchorage  beneath  his  stout  chin,  and 
was  now  just  tickling  the  edge  of  his  red,  perspir- 
ing brow.  His  hair  was  on  end  and  his  feelings 
were  undeniably  ruffled.  As  usual  Zoie's  greet- 
ing did  not  tend  to  conciliate  him. 

"  How  did  you  get  here?  "  she  asked  with  an 
air  of  reproach. 

"  The  fire-escape,"  panted  Jimmy  and  he  nod- 

193 


194  Baby  Mine 

ded  mysteriously  toward  the  inner  rooms  of  the 
apartment. 

"  Fire-escape  ?  "  echoed  Zoie.  There  was  only 
one  and  that  led  through  the  bathroom  window. 

Jimmy  explained  no  further.  He  was  now 
peeping  cautiously  out  of  the  window  toward  the 
pavement  below. 

"Where's  the  mother?"  demanded  Zoie. 

Jimmy  jerked  his  thumb  in  the  direction  of 
the  street.  Zoie  gazed  at  him  with  grave  ap- 
prehension. 

"  Jimmy ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  haven't 
killed  her?  " 

Jimmy  shook  his  head  and  continued  to  peer 
cautiously  out  of  the  window. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  her?  "  called  the  now 
exasperated  Zoie. 

"  What  did  /  do  with  her?  "  repeated  Jimmy,  a 
flash  of  his  old  resentment  returning.  "  What 
did  she  do  with  me?  " 

For  the  first  time,  Zoie  became  fully  conscious 
of  Jimmy's  ludicrous  appearance.  Her  over- 
strained nerves  gave  way  and  she  began  to  laugh 
hysterically. 

"  Say,"  shouted  Jimmy,  towering  over  the  bed 
and  devoutly  wishing  that  she  were  his  wife  so 
that  he  might  strike  her  with  impunity.  "  Don't 
you  sic  any  more  lunatics  onto  me." 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Zoie's  continued  laugh- 
ter might  not  have  provoked  Jimmy  to  desperate 


Baby   Mine  195 

measures,  had  not  the  'phone  at  that  moment  di- 
rected their  thoughts  toward  worse  possibilities. 
After  the  instrument  had  continued  to  ring  per- 
sistently for  what  seemed  to  Zoie  an  age,  she 
motioned  to  Jimmy  to  answer  it.  He  responded 
by  retreating  to  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"  It  may  be  Aggie,"  suggested  Zoie. 

For  the  first  time,  Jimmy  became  aware  that 
Aggie  was  nowhere  in  the  apartment. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  realised 
that  he  was  again  tete-a-tete  with  the  terror  of 
his  dreams.  "  Where  is  Aggie?  " 

"  Gone  to  do  what  you  should  have  done,"  was 
Zoie's  characteristic  answer. 

"  Well,"  answered  Jimmy  hotly,  "  it's  about 
time  that  somebody  besides  me  did  something 
around  this  place." 

"  You?  "  mocked  Zoie,  "  all  you've  ever  done 
was  to  hoodoo  me  from  the  very  beginning." 

"  If  you'd  taken  my  advice,"  answered  Jimmy, 
"  and  told  your  husband  the  truth  about  the 
luncheon,  there'd  never  have  been  any  *  begin- 
ning.'" 

61  If,  if,  if,"  cried  Zoie,  in  an  agony  of  impa- 
tience, "  if  you'd  tipped  that  horrid  old  waiter 
enough,  he'd  never  have  told  anyway." 

"  I'm  not  buying  waiters  to  cover  up  your 
crimes,"  announced  Jimmy  with  his  most  self- 
righteous  air. 

"  You'll  be  buying  more  than  that  to  cover  up 


196  Baby  Mine 

your  own  crimes  before  you've  finished,"  retorted 
Zoie. 

"  Before  I've  finished  with  you,  yes,"  agreed 
Jimmy.  He  wheeled  upon  her  with  increasing  re- 
sentment. "  Do  you  know  where  I  expect  to  end 
up  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  know  where  you  ought  to  end  up,"  snapped 
Zoie. 

"  I'll  finish  in  the  electric  chair,"  said 
Jimmy.  *'  I  can  feel  blue  lightning  chasing  up  and 
down  my  spine  right  now." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  had  finished  in  the  electric 
chair,"  declared  Zoie,  "  before  you  ever  dragged 
me  into  that  awful  old  restaurant." 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you?  "  answered  Jimmy  shak- 
ing his  fist  at  her  across  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
For  the  want  of  adequate  words  to  express  his 
further  feelings,  Jimmy  was  beginning  to  jibber, 
when  the  outer  door  was  heard  to  close,  and  he 
turned  to  behold  Aggie  entering  hurriedly 
with  something  partly  concealed  by  her  long 
cape. 

"  It's  all  right,"  explained  Aggie  triumphantly 
to  Zoie.  "  I've  got  it."  She  threw  her  cape 
aside  and  disclosed  the  fruits  of  her  conquest. 

"  So,"  snorted  Jimmy  in  disgust,  slightly 
miffed  by  the  apparent  ease  with  which  Aggie 
had  accomplished  a  task  about  which  he  had  made 
so  much  adoo,  "  you've  gone  into  the  business  too, 
have  you  ?  " 


Baby   Mine  197 

Aggie  deigned  no  reply  to  him.  She  continued 
in  a  businesslike  tone  to  Zoie. 

"Where's  Alfred?"  she  asked. 

"  Still  out,"  answered  Zoie. 

"  Thank  Heaven,"  sighed  Aggie,  then  she 
turned  to  Jimmy  and  addressed  him  in  rapid,  de- 
cided tones.  "  Now,  dear,"  she  said,  "  I'll  just  put 
the  new  baby  to  bed,  then  I'll  give  you  the  other 
one  and  you  can  take  it  right  down  to  the 
mother." 

Jimmy  made  a  vain  start  in  the  direction  of  the 
fire-escape.  Four  detaining  hands  were  laid 
upon  him. 

"  Don't  try  anything  like  that,"  warned  Ag- 
gie ;  "  you  can't  get  out  of  this  house  without  that 
baby.  The  mother  is  down  stairs  now.  She's 
guarding  the  door.  I  saw  her."  And  Aggie 
sailed  triumphantly  out  of  the  room  to  make  the 
proposed  exchange  of  babies. 

Before  Jimmy  was  able  to  suggest  to  himself 
an  escape  from  Aggie's  last  plan  of  action, 
the  telephone  again  began  to  cry  for  atten- 
tion. 

Neither  Jimmy  nor  Zoie  could  summon  cour- 
age to  approach  the  impatient  instrument,  and 
as  usual  Zoie  cried  frantically  for  Aggie. 

Aggie  was  not  long  in  returning  to  the  room 
and  this  time  she  bore  in  her  arms  the  infant  so 
strenuously  demanded  by  its  mad  mother. 

"  Here  you  are,  Jimmy,"  she  said ;  "  here's  the 


198  Baby  Mine 

other  one.  Now  take  him  down  stairs  quickly  be- 
fore Alfred  gets  back."  She  attempted  to  place 
the  unresisting  babe  in  Jimmy's  chubby  arms,  but 
Jimmy's  freedom  was  not  to  be  so  easily  disposed 
of. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  backing  away  from 
the  small  creature  in  fear  and  abhorrence,  "  take 
that  bundle  of  rags  down  to  the  hotel  office  and 
have  that  woman  hystericing  all  over  me.  No, 
thanks." 

"  Oh  well,"  answered  Aggie,  distracted  by  the 
persistent  ringing  of  the  'phone,  "  then  hold  him 
&  minute  until  I  answer  the  'phone." 

This  at  least  was  a  compromise,  and  reluc- 
tantly Jimmy  allowed  the  now  wailing  infant  to 
be  placed  in  his  arms. 

"  Jig  it,  Jimmy,  jig  it,"  cried  Zoie.  Jimmy 
looked  down  helplessly  at  the  baby's  angry  red 
face;  but  before  he  had  made  much  headway  with 
the  "jigging?"  Aggie  returned  to  them,  much  ex- 
cited by  the  message  which  she  had  just  received 
over  the  telephone. 

"  That  mother  is  making  a  scene  down  stairs  in 
the  office,"  she  said. 

"  You  hear,"  chided  Zoie,  in  a  fury  at  Jimmy, 
"what  did  Aggie  tell  you?" 

"  If  she  wants  this  thing,"  maintained  Jimmy, 
looking  down  at  the  bundle  in  his  arms,  "  she  can 
«ome  after  it." 

"  We  can't  have  her  up  here,"  objected  Aggie. 


Baby    Mine  199 

"  Alfred  may  be  back  at  any  minute.  He'd  catch 
her.  You  know  what  happened  the  last  time 
we  tried  to  change  them." 

"  You  can  send  it  down  the  chimney,  for  all  I 
care,"  concluded  Jimmy. 

"  I  have  it !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  her  face  sud- 
denly illumined. 

"  Oh  Lord,"  groaned  Jimmy,  who  had  come  to 
regard  any  elation  on  Zoie's  or  Aggie's  part  as  a 
sure  forewarner  of  ultimate  discomfort  for 
him. 

Again  Aggie  had  recourse  to  the  'phone. 

"  Hello,"  she  called  to  the  office  boy,  "  tell  that 
woman  to  go  around  to  the  back  door,  and  we'll 
send  something  down  to  her."  There  was  a  slight 
pause,  then  Aggie  added  sweetly,  "  Yes,  tell  her 
to  wait  at  the  foot  of  the  fire-escape." 

Zoie  had  already  caught  the  drift  of  Aggie's 
intention  and  she  now  fixed  her  glittering  eyes 
upon  Jimmy,  who  was  already  shifting  about  un- 
easily and  glancing  at  Aggie,  who  approached 
him  with  a  business-like  air. 

"  Now,  dear,"  said  Aggie,  "  come  with  me.  I'll 
hand  Baby  out  through  the  bathroom  window 
and  you  can  run  right  down  the  fire-escape  with 
him." 

"  If  I  do  run  down  the  fire-escape,"  exclaimed 
Jimmy,  wagging  his  large  head  from  side  to  side, 
"  I'll  keep  right  on  running.  That's  the  last 
you'll  ever  see  of  me." 


200  Baby  Mine 

"  But,  Jimmy,"  protested  Aggie,  slightly  hurt 
by  his  threat,  "  once  that  woman  gets  her  baby 
you'll  have  no  more  trouble." 

"With  3rou  two  still  alive?"  asked  Jimmy, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  She'll  be  up  here  if  you  don't  hurry,"  urged 
Aggie  impatiently,  and  with  that  she  pulled 
Jimm}'  toward  the  bedroom  door. 

"  Let  her  come,"  said  Jimmy,  planting  his  feet 
so  as  to  resist  Aggie's  repeated  tugs,  "  I'm 
going  to  South  America." 

"  Why  will  you  act  like  this,"  cried  Aggie,  in 
utter  desperation,  "  when  we  have  so  little 
time?" 

"  Say,"  said  Jimmy  irrelevantly,  "  do  you 
know  that  I  haven't  had  any " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Aggie  and  Zoie  in  chorus, 
"  we  know." 

"  How  long,"  continued  Zoie  impatiently,  "  is 
it  going  to  take  you  to  slip  down  that  fire-es- 
cape? " 

"  That  depends  on  how  fast  I  *  slip,' "  an- 
swered Jimmy  doggedly. 

"  You'll  '  slip  '  all  right,"  sneered  Zoie. 

Further  exchange  of  pleasantries  between 
these  two  antagonists  was  cut  short  by  the  bang- 
ing of  the  outside  door. 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  glancing 
nervously  over  her  shoulder,  "  there's  Alfred  now. 


Baby    Mine  201 

Hurry,  Jimmy,  hurry,"  she  cried,  and  with  that 
she  fairly  forced  Jimmy  out  through  the  bed- 
room door,  and  followed  in  his  wake  to  see  him 
safely  down  the  fire-escape. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

ZOIE  had  barely  time  to  arrange  herself  after 
the  manner  of  an  interesting  invalid,  when  Al- 
fred entered  the  room  in  the  gayest  of  spirits. 

"  Hello,  dearie,"  he  cried  as  he  crossed  quickly 
to  her  side. 

"  Already  ?  "  asked  Zoie  faintly  and  she  glanced 
uneasily  toward  the  door,  through  which  Jimmy 
and  Aggie  had  just  disappeared. 

"  I  told  you  I  shouldn't  be  long,"  said  Alfred 
jovially,  and  he  implanted  a  condescending  kiss 
on  her  forehead.  "  How  is  the  little  mother, 
eh?  "  he  asked,  rubbing  his  hands  together  in  sat- 
isfaction. 

"  You're  all  cold,"  pouted  Zoie,  edging  away, 
*'  and  you've  been  drinking." 

"  I  had  to  have  one  or  two  with  the  boys,"  said 
Alfred,  throwing  out  his  chest  and  strutting 
about  the  room,  "  but  never  again.  From  now 
on  I  cut  out  all  drinks  and  cigars.  This  is 
where  I  begin  to  live  my  life  for  our  sons." 

"How  about  your  life  for  me?"  asked  Zoie, 
as  she  began  to  see  long  years  of  boredom  stretch- 
ing before  her. 

"  You  and  our  boys  are  one  and  the  same, 
dear,"  answered  Alfred,  coming  back  to  her  side. 
202 


Baby    Mine  203 

"  You  mean  you  couldn't  go  on  loving  me  if  it 
weren't  for  the  boys?  "  asked  Zoie,  with  anxiety. 
She  was  beginning  to  realise  how  completely  her 
hold  upon  him  depended  upon  her  hideous  decep- 
tion. 

"  Of  course  I  could,  Zoie,"  answered  Alfred, 
flattered  by  what  he  considered  her  desire  for  his 
complete  devotion,  "  but " 

"  But  not  so  much,"  pouted  Zoie. 

"  Well,  of  course,  dear,"  admitted  Alfred 
evasively,  as  he  sank  down  upon  the  edge  of  the 
bed  by  her  side — 

"  You  needn't  say  another  word,"  interrupted 
Zoie,  and  then  with  a  shade  of  genuine  repent- 
ance, she  declared  shame-facedly  that  she  hadn't 
been  "  much  of  a  wife  "  to  Alfred. 

"  Nonsense !  "  contradicted  the  proud  young 
father,  "  you've  given  me  the  one  thing  that  I 
wanted  most  in  the  world." 

"  But  you  see,  dear,"  said  Zoie,  as  she  wound 
her  little  white  arms  about  his  neck,  and  looked 
up  into  his  face  adoringly,  "  you've  been  the 
*  one  '  thing  that  I  wanted  *  most  '  and  I  never 
realised  until  to-night  how — how  crazy  you  are 
about  things." 

"  What  things  ? "  asked  Alfred,  a  bit  puz- 
zled. 

"  Well,"  said  Zoie,  letting  her  eyes  fall  before 
his  and  picking  at  a  bit  of  imaginary  lint  on  the 
coverlet,  "  babies  and  things." 


204  Baby  Mine 

"  Oh,"  said  Alfred,  and  he  was  about  to  pro- 
ceed when  she  again  interrupted  him. 

"  But  now  that  I  do  realise  it,"  continued 
Zoie,  earnestly,  her  fingers  on  his  lips,  lest  he 
again  interrupt,  "  if  you'll  only  have  a  little  pa- 
tience with  me,  1*11 — I'll "  again  her  eyes  fell 

bashfully  to  the  coverlet,  as  she  considered  the 
possibility  of  being  ultimately  obliged  to  replace 
the  bogus  twins  with  real  ones. 

"  All  the  patience  in  the  world,"  answered  Al- 
fred, little  dreaming  of  the  problem  that  con- 
fronted the  contrite  Zoie. 

"  That's  all  I  ask,"  declared  Zoie,  her  assur- 
ance completely  restored,  "  and  in  case  anything 
should  happen  to  these "  she  glanced  anx- 
iously toward  the  door  through  which  Aggie  had 
borne  the  twins. 

"  But  nothing  is  going  to  happen  to  these, 
dear,"  interrupted  Alfred,  rising  and  again  as- 
suming an  air  of  fatherly  protection.  "  I'll  at- 
tend to  that.  There,  there,"  he  added,  patting 
her  small  shoulder  and  nodding  his  head  wisely. 
"  That  crazy  woman  has  got  on  your  nerves,  but 
you  needn't  worry,  I've  got  everything  fixed. 
Donneghey  sent  a  special  officer  over  with  me. 
He's  outside  watching  the  house,  now." 

"  Now !  "  shrieked  Zoie,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the 
bedroom  door,  through  which  Jimmy  had  lately 
disappeared  and  wondering  whether  he  had  yet 
"  slipped  "  down  the  fire-escape. 


Baby   Mine  205 

'*  Yes,"  continued  Alfred,  walking  up  and  down 
the  floor  with  a  masterly  stride.  "  If  that  woman 
is  caught  hanging  around  here  again,  she'll  get  a 
little  surprise.  My  boys  are  safe  now,  God  bless 
them !  "  Then  reminded  of  the  fact  that  he  had  not 
seen  them  since  his  return,  he  started  quickly  to- 
ward the  bedroom  door.  "  I'll  just  have  a  look  at 
the  little  rascals,"  he  decided. 

"  No,  dear,"  cried  Zoie.  She  caught  Al- 
fred's arm  as  he  passed  the  side  of  her  bed, 
and  clung  to  him  in  desperation.  "  Wait  a 
minute." 

Alfred  looked  down  at  her  in  surprise. 

She  turned  her  face  toward  the  door,  and 
called  lustily,  "  Aggie !  Aggie !  " 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  questioned  Alfred,  think- 
ing Zoie  suddenly  ill,  "  can  I  get  you  some- 
thing? " 

Before  Zoie  was  obliged  to  reply,  Aggie  an- 
swered her  summons. 

"  Did  you  call  ?  "  she  asked,  glancing  inquir- 
ingly into  Zoie's  distressed  face. 

"  Alfred's  here,"  said  Zoie,  with  a  sickly  smile 
as  she  stroked  his  hand  and  glanced  meaningly 
at  Aggie.  "  He's  got  the  officer!  " 

"  The  officer?  "  cried  Aggie,  and  involuntarily 
she  took  a  step  backward,  as  though  to  guard 
the  bedroom  door. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alfred,  mistaking  Aggie's  surprise 
for  a  compliment  to  his  resource;  "  and  now,  Ag- 


206  Baby  Mine 

gie,  if  you'll  just  stay  with  Zoie  for  a  minute  I'll 
have  a  look  at  my  boys." 

"  No,  no !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  nervously,  and 
she  placed  herself  again  in  front  of  the  bedroom 
door. 

Alfred  was  plainly  annoyed  by  her  proprietory 
air. 

"  They're  asleep,"  explained  Aggie. 

"  I'll  not  -wake  them,"  persisted  Alfred,  "  I  just 
wish  to  have  a  look  at  them,"  and  with  that  he 
again  made  a  move  toward  the  door. 

"  But  Alfred,"  protested  Zoie,  still  clinging  to 
his  hand,  "  you're  not  going  to  leave  me  again — 
so  soon." 

Alfred  was  becoming  more  and  more  restive 
under  the  seeming  absurdity  of  their  persistent 
opposition,  but  before  he  could  think  of  a  polite 
way  of  over-ruling  them,  Aggie  continued  per- 
suasively. 

"  You  stay  with  Zoie,"  she  said.  "  I'll  bring 
the  boys  in  here  and  you  can  both  have  a  look  at 
them." 

"  But  Aggie,"  argued  Alfred,  puzzled  by  her 
illogical  behaviour,  "  would  it  be  wise  to  wake 
them?" 

"  Just  this  once,"  said  Aggie.  "  Now  you  stay 
here  and  I'll  get  them."  Before  Alfred  could 
protest  further  she  was  out  of  the  room  and  the 
door  had  closed  behind  her,  so  he  resigned  him- 
self to  her  decision,  banished  his  temporary  an- 


Baby   Mine  207 

noyance  at  her  obstinacy,  and  glanced  about  the 
room  with  a  new  air  of  proprietorship. 

"  This  is  certainly  a  great  night,  Zoie,"  he 
said. 

"  It  certainly  is,"  acquiesced  Zoie,  with  an 
over  emphasis  that  made  Alfred  turn  to  her  with 
new  concern. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  mad  woman  made  you  very 
nervous,  dear,"  he  said. 

"  She  certainly  did,"  said  Zoie. 

Zoie's  nerves  were  destined  to  bear  still  further 
strain,  for  at  that  moment,  there  came  a  sharp 
ring  at  the  door. 

Beside  herself  with  anxiety  Zoie  threw  her  arms 
about  Alfred,  who  had  advanced  to  soothe  her, 
drew  him  down  by  her  side  and  buried  her  head 
on  his  breast. 

"You  are  jumpy,"  said  Alfred,  and  at  that 
instant  a  wrangle  of  loud  voices,  and  a  general 
commotion  was  heard  in  the  outer  hall.  "  What's 
that  ?  "  asked  Alfred,  endeavouring  to  disentangle 
himself  from  Zoie's  frantic  embrace. 

Zoie  clung  to  him  so  tightly  that  he  was  un- 
able to  rise,  but  his  alert  ear  caught  the  sound 
of  a  familiar  voice  rising  above  the  din  of  dispute 
in  the  hallway. 

"  That  sounds  like  the  officer,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  The  officer  ?  "  cried  Zoie,  and  she  wound  her 
arms  more  tightly  about  him. 


CHAPTER     XXVII 

PROPELLED  by  a  large  red  fist,  attached  to  the 
back  of  his  badly  wilted  collar,  the  writhing  form 
of  Jimmy  was  now  thrust  through  the  outer  door. 

"  Let  go  of  me,"  shouted  the  hapless  Jimmy. 

The  answer  was  a  spasmodic  shaking  adminis- 
tered by  the  fist;  then  a  large  burly  officer, 
carrying  a  small  babe  in  his  arms,  shoved  the  re- 
luctant Jimmy  into  the  centre  of  the  room  and 
stood  guard  over  him. 

"  I  got  him  for  you,  sir,"  announced  the  officer 
proudly,  to  the  astonished  Alfred,  who  had  just 
managed  to  untwine  Zoie's  arms  and  to  struggle 
to  his  feet. 

Alfred's  eyes  fell  first  upon  the  dejected 
Jimmy,  then  they  travelled  to  the  bundle  of  long 
clothes  in  the  officer's  arms. 

"My  boy!"  he  cried.  "My  boy!"  He 
snatched  the  infant  from  the  officer  and  pressed 
him  jealously  to  his  breast.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand," he  said,  gazing  at  the  officer  in  stupefac- 
tion. "  Where  was  he?  " 

"You  mean  this  one?"  asked  the  officer,  nod- 
ding toward  the  unfortunate  Jimmy.  "  I  caught 
him  slipping  down  your  fire-escape." 

"  I  knew  it,"  exclaimed  Zoie  in  a  rage,  and  she 
208 


Baby   Mine  209 

cast  a  vindictive  look  at  Jimmy  for  his  awkward- 
ness. 

"  Knew  what,  dear?  "  asked  Alfred,  now  thor- 
oughly puzzled. 

Zoie  did  not  answer.  Her  powers  of  resource 
were  fast  waning.  Alfred  turned  again  to  the 
officer,  then  to  Jimmy,  who  was  still  flashing  de- 
fiance into  the  officer's  threatening  eyes. 

"  My  God !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  awful. 
What's  the  matter  with  you,  Jimmy?  This  is  the 
third  time  that  you  have  tried  to  take  my  baby 
out  into  the  night." 

"Then  you've  had  trouble  with  him  before?" 
remarked  the  officer.  He  studied  Jimmy  with  new 
interest,  proud  in  the  belief  that  he  had  brought 
a  confirmed  "  baby-snatcher  "  to  justice. 

"  I've  had  a  little  trouble  myself,"  declared 
Jimmy  hotly,  now  resolved  to  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it. 

"  I'm  not  asking  about  your  troubles,"  inter- 
rupted the  officer  savagely,  and  Jimmy  felt  the 
huge  creature's  obnoxious  fingers  tightening 
again  on  his  collar.  "  Go  ahead,  sir,"  said  the 
officer  to  Alfred. 

"  Well,"  began  Alfred,  nodding  toward  the  now 
livid  Jimmy,  "  he  was  out  with  my  boy  when  I  ar- 
rived. I  stopped  him  from  going  out  with  him  a 
second  time,  and  now  you,  officer,  catch  him  slip- 
ping down  the  fire-escape.  I  don't  know  what  to 
say,"  he  finished  weakly. 


210  Baby  Mine 

"  7  do,"  exclaimed  Jimmy,  feeling  more  and 
more  like  a  high  explosive,  "  and  I'll  say  it." 

"  Cut  it,n  shouted  the  officer.  And  before 
Jimmy  could  get  further,  Alfred  resumed  with 
fresh  vehemence. 

"  He's  supposed  to  be  a  friend  of  mine,"  he 
explained  to  the  officer,  as  he  nodded  toward  the 
wriggling  Jimmy.  "  He  was  all  right  when  I  left 
him  a  few  months  ago." 

"  You'll  think  I'm  all  right  again,"  shouted 
Jimmy,  trying  to  get  free  from  the  officer,  "  be- 
fore I've  finished  telling  all  I " 

"  That  won't  help  any,"  interrupted  the  offi- 
cer firmly,  and  with  another  twist  of  Jimmy's 
badly  wilted  collar  he  turned  to  Alfred  with  his 
most  civil  manner,  "  What  shall  I  do  with  him, 
sir?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Alfred,  convinced  that 
his  friend  was  a  fit  subject  for  a  straight  jacket. 
"  This  is  horrible." 

"  It's  absurd,"  cried  Zoie,  on  the  verge  of  hys- 
terics, and  in  utter  despair  of  ever  disentangling 
the  present  complication  without  ultimately  los- 
ing Alfred,  "  you're  all  absurd,"  she  cried  wildly. 

"Absurd?"  exclaimed  Alfred,  turning  upon 
her  in  amazement,  "what  do  you  mean?" 

"  It's  a  joke,"  said  Zoie,  without  the  slightest 
idea  of  where  the  joke  lay.  "If  you  had  any 
sense  you  could  see  it." 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  said  Alfred,  with  hurt  dignity. 


Baby    Mine  211 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  Jimmy,  with  boiling  re- 
sentment. 

"  Can  you  call  it  a  joke,"  asked  Alfred,  in- 
credulously, "  to  have  our  boy "  He  stopped 

suddenly,  remembering  that  there  was  a  compan- 
ion piece  to  this  youngster.  "  The  other  one !  " 

he  exclaimed,  "  our  other  boy "  He  rushed 

to  the  crib,  found  it  empty,  and  turned  a  terrified 
face  to  Zoie.  "  Where  is  he?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Now,  Alfred,"  pleaded  Zoie,  "  don't  get  ex- 
cited; he's  all  right." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  the  distracted 
father. 

Zoie  did  not  know,  but  at  that  moment  her 
eyes  fell  upon  Jimmy,  and  as  usual  he  was  the 
source  of  an  inspiration  for  her. 

"  Jimmy  never  cared  for  the  other  one,"  she 
said,  "  did  you,  Jimmy?  " 

Alfred  turned  to  the  officer,  with  a  tone  of 
command.  "  Wait,"  he  said,  then  he  started  to- 
ward the  bedroom  door  to  make  sure  that  his 
other  boy  was  quite  safe.  The  picture  that  con- 
fronted him  brought  the  hair  straight  up  on  his 
head.  True  to  her  promise,  and  ignorant  of 
Jimmy's  return  with  the  first  baby,  Aggie  had 
chosen  this  ill-fated  moment  to  appear  on  the 
threshold  with  one  babe  on  each  arm. 

"  Here  they  are,"  she  said  graciously,  then 
stopped  in  amazement  at  sight  of  the  horrified 
Alfred,  clasping  a  third  infant  to  his  breast. 


212  Baby  Mine 

"  Good  God !  "  exclaimed  Alfred,  stroking  his 
forehead  with  his  unoccupied  hand,  and  gazing 
at  what  he  firmly  believed  must  be  an  apparition, 
"  those  aren't  mine,"  he  pointed  to  the  two  red 
mites  in  Aggie's  arms. 

"  Wh — why  not,  Alfred?"  stammered  Aggie 
for  the  want  of  something  better  to  say. 

"What?"  shrieked  Alfred.  Then  he  turned 
in  appeal  to  his  young  wife,  whose  face  had  now 
become  utterly  expressionless.  "Zoie?"  he 
entreated. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  then  the  blood 
returned  to  Zoie's  face  and  she  proved  herself 
the  artist  that  Alfred  had  once  declared  her. 

"  Ours,  dear,"  she  murmured  softly,  with  a 
bashful  droop  of  her  lids. 

"But  this  one?"  persisted  Alfred,  pointing  to 
the  baby  in  his  arms,  and  feeling  sure  that  his 
mind  was  about  to  give  way. 

"  Why— why— why,"  stuttered  Zoie,  "  that's 
the  joke." 

"  The  joke?  "  echoed  Alfred,  looking  as  though 
he  found  it  anything  but  such. 

"  Yes,"  added  Aggie,  sharing  Zoie's  despera- 
tion to  get  out  of  their  temporary  difficulty,  no 
matter  at  what  cost  in  the  future.  "  Didn't 
Jimmy  tell  you?  " 

"  Tell  me  what?  "  stammered  Alfred,  "  what  is 
there  to  tell?" 

"  Why,   you   see,"   said   Aggie,   growing  more 


Baby    Mine  213 

enthusiastic  with  each  elaboration  of  Zoie's  lie, 
"  we  didn't  dare  to  break  it  to  you  too  suddenly." 

"  Break  it  to  me?  "  gasped  Alfred;  a  new  light 
was  beginning  to  dawn  on  his  face. 

"  So,"  concluded  Zoie,  now  thoroughly  at  home 
in  the  new  situation,  "  we  asked  Jimmy  to  take 
that  one  out." 

Jimmy  cast  an  inscrutable  glance  in  Zoie's  di- 
rection. Was  it  possible  that  she  was  at  last 
assisting  him  out  of  a  difficulty? 

"  You  '  asked  Jimmy  ' ?  "  repeated  Alfred. 

"  Yes,"  confirmed  Aggie,  with  easy  confidence, 
"  we  wanted  you  to  get  used  to  the  idea  gradu- 
ally." 

"  The  idea,"  echoed  Alfred.  He  was  afraid  to 
allow  his  mind  to  accept  too  suddenly  the  whole 
significance  of  their  disclosure,  lest  his  joy  over- 
power him.  "  You — you — do — don't  mean " 

he  stuttered. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  sighed  Zoie,  with  the  face  of  an 
angel,  and  then  with  a  languid  sigh,  she  sank  back 
contentedly  on  her  pillows. 

"  My  boys  !  My  boys !  "  cried  Alfred,  now  de- 
lirious with  delight.  "  Give  them  to  me,"  he  called 
to  Aggie,  and  he  snatched  the  surprised  infants 
savagely  from  her  arms.  "  Give  me  all  of  them, 
all  of  them."  He  clasped  the  three  babes  to  his 
breast,  then  dashed  to  the  bedside  of  the  unsus- 
pecting Zoie  and  covered  her  small  face  with  rap- 
turous kisses. 


214  Baby  Mine 

Feeling  the  red  faces  of  the  little  strangers  in 
such  close  proximity  to  hers,  Zoie  drew  away  from 
them  with  abhorrence,  but  unconscious  of  her 
unmotherly  action,  Alfred  continued  his  mad 
career  about  the  room,  his  heart  overflowing  with 
gratitude  toward  Zoie  in  particular  and  mankind 
in  general.  Finding  Aggie  in  the  path  of  his 
wild  jubilee,  he  treated  that  bewildered  young 
matron  to  an  unwelcome  kiss.  A  proceeding 
which  Jimmy  did  not  at  all  approve. 

Hardly  had  Aggie  recovered  from  her  surprise 
when  the  disgruntled  Jimmy  was  startled  out  of 
his  dark  mood  by  the  supreme  insult  of  a  loud  re- 
sounding kiss  implanted  on  his  own  cheek  by  his 
excitable  young  friend.  Jimmy  raised  his  arm 
to  resist  a  second  assault,  and  Alfred  veered  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  officer,  who  stepped  aside 
just  in  time  to  avoid  similar  demonstration  from 
the  indiscriminating  young  father. 

Finding  a  wide  circle  prescribed  about  himself 
and  the  babies,  Alfred  suddenly  stopped  and 
gazed  about  from  one  astonished  face  to  the 
other. 

"  Well,"  said  the  officer,  regarding  Alfred  with 
an  injured  air,  and  feeling  much  downcast  at  be- 
ing so  ignominiously  deprived  of  his  short-lived 
heroism  in  capturing  a  supposed  criminal,  "  if 
this  is  all  a  joke,  I'll  let  the  woman  go." 

"  The  woman,"  repeated  Alfred ;  "  what 
woman?  " 


Baby   Mine  215 

"  I  nabbed  a  woman  at  the  foot  of  the  fire-es- 
cape," explained  the  officer.  Zoie  and  Aggie 
glanced  at  each  other  inquiringly.  "  I  thought 
she  might  be  an  accomplice." 

"What  does  she  look  like,  officer?"  asked  Al- 
fred. His  manner  was  becoming  more  paternal, 
not  to  say  condescending,  with  the  arrival  of  each 
new  infant. 

"  Don't  be  silly,  Alfred,"  snapped  Zoie,  really 
ashamed  that  Alfred  was  making  such  an  idiot 
of  himself.  "  It's  only  the  nurse." 

"  Oh,  that's  it,"  said  Alfred,  with  a  wise  nod  of 
comprehension;  "  the  nurse,  then  she's  in  the  joke 
too? "  He  glanced  from  one  to  the  other. 
They  all  nodded.  "You're  all  in  it,"  he  ex- 
claimed, flattered  to  think  that  they  had  con- 
sidered it  necessary  to  combine  the  efforts  of  so 
many  of  them  to  deceive  him. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Jimmy  sadly,  "  we  are  all  '  in 
it.' " 

"  Well,  she's  a  great  actress,"  decided  Alfred, 
with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur. 

"  She  sure  is,"  admitted  Donneghey,  more  and 
more  disgruntled  as  he  felt  his  reputation  for 
detecting  fraud  slipping  from  him.  "  She  put 
up  a  phoney  story  about  the  kid  being  hers,"  he 
added.  "  But  I  could  tell  she  wasn't  on  the  level. 
Good-night,  sir,"  he  called  to  Alfred,  and  ignor- 
ing Jimmy,  he  passed  quickly  from  the  room. 

"  Oh,  officer,"  Alfred  called  after  him.     "  Hang 


216  Baby  Mine 

around  downstairs.  I'll  be  down  later  and  fix 
things  up  with  you."  Again  Alfred  gave  his 
whole  attention  to  his  new-found  family.  He 
leaned  over  the  cradle  and  gazed  ecstatically  into 
the  three  small  faces  below  his.  "  This  is  too 
much,"  he  murmured. 

"  Much  too  much,"  agreed  Jimmy,  who  was  now 
sitting  hunched  up  on  the  couch  in  his  customary 
attitude  of  gloom. 

"  You  were  right  not  to  break  it  to  me  too  sud- 
denly," said  Alfred,  and  with  his  arms  encircling 
three  infants  he  settled  himself  on  the  couch  by 
Jimmy's  side.  "  You're  a  cute  one,"  he  con- 
tinued to  Jimmy,  who  was  edging  away  from  the 
three  mites  with  aversion.  In  the  absence  of  any 
answer  from  Jimmy,  Alfred  appealed  to  Zoie, 
"  Isn't  he  a  cute  one,  dear?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  very"  answered  Zoie,  sarcastically. 

Shutting  his  lips  tight  and  glancing  at  Zoie 
with  a  determined  effort  at  self  restraint,  Jimmy 
rose  from  the  couch  and  started  toward  the  door. 

"  If  you  women  are  done  with  me,"  he  said, 
"  I'll  clear  out." 

"  Clear  out?  "  exclaimed  Alfred,  rising  quickly 
and  placing  himself  between  his  old  friend  and  the 
door.  "  What  a  chance,"  and  he  laughed  boister- 
ously. "  You're  not  going  to  get  out  of  my 
sight  this  night,"  he  declared.  "  I'm  just  begin- 
ning to  appreciate  all  you've  done  for  me." 

"  So  am  I,"  assented  Jimmy,  and  unconsciously 


Baby   Mine  217 

his  hand  sought  the  spot  where  his  dinner  should 
have  been,  but  Alfred  was  not  to  be  resisted. 

"  A  man  needs  someone  around,"  he  declared, 
"  when  he's  going  through  a  thing  like  this.  I 
need  all  of  you,  all  of  you,"  and  with  his  eyes 
he  embraced  the  weary  circle  of  faces  about  him. 
"  I  feel  as  though  I  could  go  out  of  my  head,"  he 
explained  and  with  that  he  began  tucking  the 
three  small  mites  in  the  pink  and  white  crib  de- 
signed for  but  one. 

Zoie  regarded  him  with  a  bored  expression. 

"  You  act  as  though  you  were  out  of  your 
head,"  she  commented,  but  Alfred  did  not  heed 
her.  He  was  now  engaged  in  the  unhoped  for 
bliss  of  singing  three  babies  to  sleep  with  one 
lullaby. 

The  other  occupants  of  the  room  were  just  be- 
ginning to  relax  and  to  show  some  resemblance  to 
their  natural  selves,  when  their  features  were 
again  simultaneously  frozen  by  a  ring  at  the  out- 
side door. 


CHAPTER     XXVIII 

ANNOYED  at  being  interrupted  in  the  midst  of 
his  lullaby,  to  three,  Alfred  looked  up  to  see  Mag- 
gie, hatless  and  out  of  breath,  bursting  into  the 
room,  and  destroying  what  was  to  him  an  ideally 
tranquil  home  scene.  But  Maggie  paid  no  heed 
to  Alfred's  look  of  inquiry.  She  made  directly 
for  the  side  of  Zoie's  bed. 

"  If  you  plaze,  mum,"  she  panted,  looking  down 
at  Zoie,  and  wringing  her  hands. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Aggie,  who  had  now 
reached  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  'Scuse  me  for  comin'  right  in  " — Maggie  was 
breathing  hard — "  but  me  mother  sint  me  to  tell 
you  that  me  father  is  jus  afther  comin'  home 
from  work,  and  he's  fightin'  mad  about  the  ba- 
bies, mum." 

"  Sh !  Sh ! "  cautioned  Aggie  and  Zoie,  as 
they  glanced  nervously  toward  Alfred  who  was 
rising  from  his  place  beside  the  cradle  with  in- 
creasing interest  in  Maggie's  conversation. 

"Babies?"  he  repeated,  "your  father  is  mad 
about  babies  ?  " 

"  It's  all  right,  dear,"  interrupted  Zoie  nerv- 
ously ;  "  you  see,"  she  went  on  to  explain,  point- 
•ing  toward  the  trembling  Maggie,  "  this  is  our 
218 


Baby    Mine  219 

washerwoman's  little  girl.  Our  washerwoman  has 
had  twins,  too,  and  it  made  the  wash  late,  and 
her  husband  is  angry  about  it." 

"  Oh,"  said  Alfred,  with  a  comprehensive  nod, 
but  Maggie  was  not  to  be  so  easily  disposed  of. 

"  If  you  please,  mum,"  she  objected,  "  it  ain't 
about  the  wash.  It's  about  our  baby  girls." 

"Girls?"  exclaimed  Zoie  involuntarily. 

"Girls?"  repeated  Alfred,  drawing  himself  up 
in  the  fond  conviction  that  all  his  heirs  were  boys, 
"  No  wonder  your  pa's  angry.  I'd  be  angry  too. 
Come  now,"  he  said  to  Maggie,  patting  the  child 
on  the  shoulder  ard  regarding  her  indulgently, 
"  you  go  straight  home  and  tell  your  father  that 
what  he  needs  is  boys." 

"  Well,  of  course,  sir,"  answered  the  bewil- 
dered Maggie,  thinking  that  Alfred  meant  to 
reflect  upon  the  gender  of  the  off-spring  donated 
by  her  parents,  "  if  you  ain't  afther  likin'  girls, 
me  mother  sint  the  money  back,"  and  with  that 
she  began  to  feel  for  the  pocket  in  her  red  flannel 
petticoat. 

"The  money?"  repeated  Alfred,  in  a  puzzled 
way,  "  what  money?  " 

It  was  again  Zoie's  time  to  think  quickly. 

"  The  money  for  'the  wash,  dear,"  she  ex- 
plained. 

"  Nonsense !  "  retorted  Alfred,  positively  beam- 
ing generosity,  "  who  talks  of  money  at  such  a 
time  as  this  ?  "  And  taking  a  ten  dollar  bill  from 


220  Baby  Mine 

his  pocket,  he  thrust  it  in  Maggie's  outstretched 
hand,  while  she  was  trying  to  return  to  him  the 
original  purchase  money.  "  Here,"  he  said  to 
the  astonished  girl,  "  you  take  this  to  your  father. 
Tell  him  I  sent  it  to  him  for  his  babies.  Tell  him 
to  start  a  bank  account  with  it." 

This  was  clearly  not  a  case  with  which  one 
small  addled  mind  could  deal,  or  at  least,  so  Mag- 
gie decided.  She  had  a  hazy  idea  that  Alfred 
was  adding  something  to  the  original  purchase 
price  of  her  young  sisters,  but  she  was  quite  at  a 
loss  to  know  how  to  refuse  the  offer  of  such  a 
"  grand  'hoigh  "  gentleman,  even  though  her  fail- 
ure to  do  so  would  no  doubt  result  in  a  beating 
when  she  reached  home.  She  stared  at  Alfred 
undecided  what  to  do,  the  money  still  lay  in  her 
outstretched  hand. 

"  I'm  afraid  Pa'll  niver  loike  it,  sir,"  she  said. 

"Like  it?"  exclaimed  Alfred  in  high  feather, 
and  he  himself  closed  her  red  little  fingers  over 
the  bill,  "  he's  got  to  like  it.  He'll  grow  to  like 
it.  Now  you  run  along,"  he  concluded  to  Mag- 
gie, as  he  urged  her  toward  the  door,  "  and  tell 
him  what  I  say." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  murmured  Maggie,  far  from  shar- 
ing Alfred's  enthusiasm. 

Feeling  no  desire  to  renew  his  acquaintance 
with  Maggie,  particularly  under  Alfred's  watch- 
ful eye,  Jimmy  had  sought  his  old  refuge,  the 
high  backed  chair.  As  affairs  progressed  and 


Baby    Mine  221 

there  seemed  no  doubt  of  Zoie's  being  able  to 
handle  the  situation  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  con- 
cerned, Jimmy  allowed  exhaustion  and  the  warmth 
of  the  firelight  to  have  their  way  with  him.  His 
mind  wandered  toward  other  things  and  finally 
into  space.  His  head  dropped  lower  and  lower 
on  his  chest;  his  breathing  became  laboured — 
so  laboured  in  fact  that  it  attracted  the  attention 
of  Maggie,  who  was  about  to  pass  him  on  her  way 
to  the  door. 

"  Sure  an  it's  Mr.  Jinks !  "  exclaimed  Maggie. 
Then  coming  close  to  the  side  of  the  unsuspecting 
sleeper,  she  hissed  a  startling  message  in  his  ear. 
"  Me  mother  said  to  tell  you  that  me  fadder's 
hoppin'  mad  at  you,  sir." 

Jimmy  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  He 
studied  the  young  person  at  his  elbow,  then 
he  glanced  at  Alfred,  utterly  befuddled  as  to 
what  had  happened  while  he  had  been  on  a  jour- 
ney to  happier  scenes.  Apparently  Maggie  was 
waiting  for  an  answer  to  something,  but  to  what? 
Jimmy  thought  he  detected  an  ominous  look  in 
Alfred's  eyes.  Letting  his  hand  fall  over  the 
arm  of  the  chair  so  that  Alfred  could  not  see  it, 
Jimmy  began  to  make  frantic  signals  to  Maggie 
to  depart;  she  stared  at  him  the  harder. 

"  Go  away,"  whispered  Jimmy,  but  Maggie  did 
not  move.  "  Shoo,  shoo !  "  he  said,  and  waved 
her  off  with  his  hand. 

Puzzled  by  Jimmy's  sudden  aversion  to  this  ap- 


222  Baby  Mine 

parently  harmless  child,  Alfred  turned  to  Maggie 
with  a  puckered  brow. 

"Your  father's  mad  at  Jimmy?"  he  repeated. 
"What  about?" 

For  once  Jimmy  found  it  in  his  heart  to  be 
grateful  to  Zoie  for  the  prompt  answer  that 
came  from  her  direction. 

"  The  wash,  dear,"  said  Zoie  to  Alfred ; 
"  Jimmy  had  to  go  after  the  wash,"  and  then 
with  a  look  which  Maggie  could  not  mistake  for 
an  invitation  to  stop  longer,  Zoie  called  to  her 
haughtily,  "  You  needn't  wait,  Maggie ;  we  under- 
stand." 

"  Sure,  an'  it's  more  'an  I  do,"  answered  Mag- 
gie, and  shaking  her  head  sadly,  she  slipped  from 
the  room. 

But  Alfred  could  not  immediately  dismiss  from 
his  mind  the  picture  of  Maggie's  inhuman  parent. 

"  Just  fancy,"  he  said,  turning  his  head  to 
one  side  meditatively,  "  fancy  any  man  not  liking 
to  be  the  father  of  twins,"  and  with  tjiat  he  again 
bent  over  the  cradle  and  surveyed  its  contents. 
"  Think,  Jimmy,"  he  said,  when  he  had  managed 
to  get  the  three  youngsters  in  his  arms,  "just 
think  of  the  way  that  father  feels,  and  then  think 
of  the  way  7  feel." 

"  And  then  think  of  the  way  /  feel,"  grumbled 
Jimmy. 

"  You !  "  exclaimed  Alfred ;  "  what  have  you  to 
feel  about?  " 


Baby    Mine  223 

Before  Jimmy  could  answer,  the  air  was  rent 
by  a  piercing  scream  and  a  crash  of  glass  from 
the  direction  of  the  inner  rooms. 

"  What's  that?  "  whispered  Aggie,  with  an  anx- 
ious glance  toward  Zoie. 

"  Sounded  like  breaking  glass,"  said  Alfred. 

"  Burglars !  "  exclaimed  Zoie,  for  want  of  any- 
thing better  to  suggest. 

"Burglars?"  repeated  Alfred  with  a  superior 
air;  "nonsense!  Nonsense!  Here,"  he  said, 
turning  to  Jimmy,  "  you  hold  the  boys  and  I'll 

go  see "  and  before  Jimmy  was  aware  of  the 

honour  about  to  be  thrust  upon  him,  he  felt  three 
red,  spineless  morsels,  wriggling  about  in  his- 
arms.  He  made  what  lap  he  could  for  the  arm- 
ful, and  sat  up  in  a  stiff,  strained  attitude  on  the 
edge  of  the  couch.  In  the  meantime,  Alfred  had 
strode  into  the  adjoining  room  with  the  air  of  a 
conqueror.  Aggie  looked  at  Zoie,  with  dreadful 
foreboding. 

"You  don't  suppose  it  could  be ?  "  she 

paused. 

"  My  baby ! "  shrieked  the  voice  of  the  Italian 
mother  from  the  adjoining  room.  "Where  is 
he?" 

Regardless  of  the  discomfort  of  his  three  dis- 
gruntled charges,  Jimmy  began  to  circle  the  room. 
So  agitated  was  his  mind  that  he  could  scarcely 
hear  Aggie,  who  was  reporting  proceedings  from 
her  place  at  the  bedroom  door. 


224  Baby  Mine 

"She's  come  up  the  fire-escape,"  cried  Aggie; 
'*  she's  beating  Alfred  to  death." 

"  What?  "  shrieked  Zoie,  making  a  flying  leap 
from  her  coverlets. 

"  She's  locking  him  in  the  bathroom,"  declared 
Aggie,  and  with  that  she  disappeared  from  the 
room,  bent  on  rescue. 

"  My  Alfred !  "  cried  Zoie,  tragically,  and  she 
started  in  pursuit  of  Aggie. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  called  Jimmy,  who  had  not 
yet  been  able  to  find  a  satisfactory  place  in  which 
to  deposit  his  armful  of  clothes  and  humanity. 
"  What  shall  I  do  with  these  things?  " 

"  Eat  'em,"  was  Zoie's  helpful  retort,  as  the 
trailing  end  of  her  negligee  disappeared  from  the 
room. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

Now,  had  Jimmy  been  less  perturbed  during 
the  latter  part  of  this  commotion,  he  might  have 
heard  the  bell  of  the  outside  door,  which  had  been 
ringing  violently  for  some  minutes.  As  it  was, 
he  was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  flying  advent 
of  Maggie. 

"  Oh,  plaze,  sir,"  she  cried,  pointing  with  trem- 
bling fingers  toward  the  babes  in  Jimmy's  arms, 
"  me  fadder's  coming  right  behind  me.  He's 
a-lookin'  for  you  sir." 

"  For  me,"  murmured  Jimmy,  wondering 
vaguely  why  everybody  on  earth  seemed  to  be 
looking  for  him. 

"  Put  'em  down,  sir,"  cried  Maggie,  still  point- 
ing to  the  three  babies,  "  put  'em  down.  He's 
liable  to  wallop  you." 

"  Put  'em  where  ?  "  asked  Jimmy,  now  utterly 
confused  as  to  which  way  to  turn. 

•/ 

"  There,"  said  Maggie,  and  she  pointed  to  the 
cradle  beneath  his  very  eyes. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jimmy  vapidly,  and  he  sank 
on  his  knees  and  strove  to  let  the  wobbly  crea- 
tures down  easily. 

Bang  went  the  outside  door. 

"That's  Pa  now,"  cried  Maggie.  "Oh  hide, 
225 


226  Baby  Mine 

sir,  hide."  And  with  that  disconcerting  warning, 
she  too  deserted  him. 

"  Hide  where  ?  "  gasped  Jimmy. 

There  was  a  moment's  awful  silence.  Jimmy 
rose  very  cautiously  from  the  cradle,  his  eyes 
sought  the  armchair.  It  had  always  betrayed 
him.  He  glanced  toward  the  window.  It  was 
twelve  stories  to  the  pavement.  He  looked  to- 
wards the  opposite  door;  beyond  that  was  the 
mad  Italian  woman.  His  one  chance  lay  in  slip- 
ping unnoticed  through  the  hallway;  he  made  a 
determined  dash  in  that  direction,  but  no  sooner 
had  he  put  his  head  through  the  door,  than  he 
drew  it  back  quickly.  The  conversation  between 
O'Flarety  and  the  maid  in  the  hallway  was  not  re- 
assuring. Jimmy  decided  to  take  a  chance  with 
the  Italian  mother,  and  as  fast  as  he  could,  he 
streaked  it  toward  the  opposite  door.  The 
shrieks  and  denunciations  that  he  met  from  this 
direction  were  more  disconcerting  than  those  of 
the  Irish  father.  For  an  instant  he  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  wavering  as  to  which  side  to 
surrender  himself. 

The  thunderous  tones  of  the  enraged  father 
drew  nearer;  he  threw  himself  on  the  floor  and  at- 
tempted to  roll  under  the  bed;  the  space  between 
the  railing  and  the  floor  was  far  too  narrow. 
Why  had  he  disregarded  Aggie's  advice  as  to 
diet?  The  knob  of  the  door  handle  was  turn- 
ing— he  vaulted  into  the  bed  and  drew  the  covers 


Baby    Mine  227 

over  his  head  just  as  O'Flarety,  trembling  with 
excitement,  and  pursued  by  Maggie,  burst  into 
the  room. 

"  Lave  go  of  me,"  cried  O'Flarety  to  Maggie, 
who  clung  to  his  arm  in  a  vain  effort  to  soothe 
him,  and  flinging  her  off,  he  made  straight  for 
the  bed. 

"  Ah,"  he  cried,  gazing  with  dilated  nostrils  at 
the  trembling  object  beneath  the  covers,  "  there 
you  are,  mum,"  and  he  shook  his  fist  above  what 
he  believed  to  be  the  cowardly  Mrs.  Hardy. 
"  'Tis  well  ye  may  cover  up  your  head,"  said 
he,  "  for  shame  on  yez !  Me  wife  may  take  in 
washing,  but  when  I  comes  home  at  night  I 
wants  me  kids,  and  I'll  be  after  havin'  'em 
too.  Where  ar'  they? "  he  demanded.  Then 
getting  no  response  from  the  agitated  covers,  he 
glanced  wildly  about  the  room.  "  Glory  be  to 
God!"  he  exclaimed  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  crib; 
but  he  stopped  short  in  astonishment,  when  upon 
peering  into  it,  he  found  not  one,  or  two,  but 
three  "  barren." 

"  They're  child  stalers,  that's  what  they  are," 
he  declared  to  Maggie,  as  he  snatched  Bridget 
and  Norah  to  his  no  doubt  comforting  breast. 
"  Me  little  Biddy,"  he  crooned  over  his  much  cov- 
eted possession.  "  Me  little  Norah,"  he  added 
fondly,  looking  down  at  his  second.  The  thought 
of  his  narrow  escape  from  losing  these  irreplace- 
able treasures  rekindled  his  wrath.  Again  he 


228  Baby  Mine 

strode  toward  the  bed  and  looked  down  at  the  now 
semi-quiet  comforter. 

"  The  black  heart  of  ye,  mum,"  he  roared, 
then  ordering  Maggie  to  give  back  "  every  penny 
of  that  shameless  creetur's  money  "  he  turned  to- 
ward the  door. 

So  intense  had  been  O'Flarety's  excitement  and 
so  engrossed  was  he  in  his  denunciation  that  he 
had  failed  to  see  the  wild-eyed  Italian  woman 
rushing  toward  him  from  the  opposite  door. 

"  You,  you !  "  cried  the  frenzied  woman  and,  to 
O'Flarety's  astonishment,  she  laid  two  strong 
hands  upon  his  arm  and  drew  him  round  until  he 
faced  her.  "  Where  are  you  going  with  my 
baby?  "  she  asked,  then  peering  into  the  face  of 
the  infant  nearest  to  her,  she  uttered  a  disap- 
pointed moan.  "  'Tis  not  my  baby !  "  she  cried. 
She  scanned  the  face  of  the  second  infant — again 
she  moaned. 

Having  begun  to  identify  this  hysterical  crea- 
ture as  the  possible  mother  of  the  third  infant, 
O'Flarety  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
cradle. 

"  I  guess  you'll  find  what  you're  lookin'  for  in 
there,"  he  said.  Then  bidding  Maggie  to  "  git 
along  out  o'  this  "  and  shrugging  his  shoulders 
to  convey  his  contempt  for  the  fugitive  beneath 
the  coverlet,  he  swept  quickly  from  the  room. 

Clasping  her  long-sought  darling  to  her  heart 
and  weeping  with  delight,  the  Italian  mother  was 


Baby    Mine  229 

about  to  follow  O'Flarety  through  the  door 
when  Zoie  staggered  into  the  room,  weak  and  ex- 
hausted. 

"  You,  you ! "  called  the  indignant  Zoie  to  the 
departing  mother.  "  How  dare  you  lock  my  hus- 
band in  the  bathroom? "  She  pointed  to  the 
key,  which  the  woman  still  unconsciously  clasped 
in  her  hand.  "  Give  me  that  key,"  she  demanded, 
"  give  it  to  me  this  instant." 

"  Take  your  horrid  old  key,"  said  the  mother, 
and  she  threw  it  on  the  floor.  "  If  you  ever  try 
to  get  my  baby  again,  I'll  lock  your  husband  in 
jail,"  and  murmuring  excited  maledictions  in  her 
native  tongue,  she  took  her  welcome  departure. 

Zoie  stooped  for  the  key,  one  hand  to  her  giddy 
head,  but  Aggie,  who  had  just  returned  to  the 
room,  reached  the  key  first  and  volunteered  to  go 
to  the  aid  of  the  captive  Alfred,  who  was  pound- 
ing desperately  on  the  bathroom  door  and  de- 
manding his  instant  release. 

"I'll  let  him  out,"  said  Aggie.  "You  get 
into  bed,"  and  she  slipped  quickly  from  the  room. 

Utterly  exhausted  and  half  blind  with  fatigue 
Zoie  lifted  the  coverlet  and  slipped  beneath  it. 
Her  first  sensation  was  of  touching  something 
rough  and  scratchy,  then  came  the  awful  convic- 
tion that  the  thing  against  which  she  lay  was 
alive. 

Without  stopping  to  investigate  the  identity 
of  her  uninvited  bed-fellow,  or  even  daring  to 


230  Baby  Mine 

look  behind  her,  Zoie  fled  from  the  room  emitting 
a  series  of  screams  that  made  all  her  previous 
efforts  in  that  direction  seem  mere  baby  cries. 
So  completely  had  Jimmy  been  enveloped  in  the 
coverlets  and  for  so  long  a  time  that  he  had  ac- 
quired a  vague  feeling  of  aloftness  toward  the 
rest  of  his  fellows,  and  had  lost  all  knowledge  of 
their  goings  and  comings.  But  when  his  unex- 
pected companion  was  thrust  upon  him  he  was 
galvanised  into  sudden  action  by  her  scream,  and 
swathed  in  a  large  pink  comforter,  he  rolled 
ignominiously  from  the  upper  side  of  the  bed, 
where  he  lay  on  the  floor  panting  and  enmeshed, 
awaiting  further  developments.  Of  one  thing  he 
was  certain,  a  great  deal  had  transpired  since  he 
had  sought  the  friendly  solace  of  the  covers  and 
he  had  no  mind  to  lose  so  good  a  friend  as  the 
pink  comforter.  By  the  time  he  had  summoned 
sufficient  courage  to  peep  from  under  its  edge,  a 
babel  of  voices  was  again  drawing  near,  and  he 
hastily  drew  back  in  his  shell  and  waited. 

Not  daring  to  glance  at  the  scene  of  her  fright, 
Zoie  pushed  Aggie  before  her  into  the  room  and 
demanded  that  she  look  in  the  bed. 

Seeing  the  bed  quite  empty  and  noticing  noth- 
ing unusual  in  the  fact  that  the  pink  comforter, 
along  with  other  covers,  had  slipped  down  behind 
it,  Aggie  hastened  to  reassure  her  terrified  friend. 

"  You  imagined  it,  Zoie,"  she  declared,  "  look 
for  yourself." 


Baby    Mine  231 

Zoie's  small  face  peeped  cautiously  around  the 
edge  of  the  doorway. 

"  Well,  perhaps  1  did,"  she  admitted;  then  she 
slipped  gingerly  into  the  room,  "  my  nerves  are 
jumping  like  fizzy  water." 

They  were  soon  to  "  jump  "  more,  for  at  this 
instant,  Alfred,  burning  with  anger  at  the  indig- 
nity of  having  been  locked  in  the  bathroom,  en- 
tered the  room,  demanding  to  know  the  where- 
abouts of  the  lunatic  mother,  who  had  dared  to 
make  him  a  captive  in  his  own  house. 

"Where  is  she?  "  he  called  to  Zoie  and  Aggie, 
and  his  eye  roved  wildly  about  the  room.  Then 
his  mind  reverted  with  anxiety  to  his  newly  ac- 
quired offspring.  "  My  boys !  "  he  cried,  and  he 
rushed  toward  the  crib.  "They're  gone!"  he 
declared  tragically. 

"  Gone?  "  echoed  Aggie. 

"  Not  all  of  them,"  said  Zoie. 

"  All,"  insisted  Alfred,  and  his  hands  went  dis- 
tractedly toward  his  head.  "  She's  taken  them 
all." 

Zoie  and  Aggie  looked  at  each  other  in  a  dazed 
way.  They  had  a  hazy  recollection  of  having 
seen  one  babe  disappear  with  the  Italian  woman, 
but  what  had  become  of  the  other  two? 

"Where  did  they  go?"  asked  Aggie. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Zoie,  with  the  first  truth 
she  had  spoken  that  night,  "  I  left  them  with 
Jimmy." 


232  Baby  Mine 

"  Jimmy !  "  shrieked  Alfred,  and  a  diabolical 
light  lit  his  features.  "  Jimmy !  "  he  snorted, 
with  sudden  comprehension,  "  then  he's  at  it 
again.  He's  crazy  as  she  is.  This  is  inhuman. 
This  joke  has  got  to  stop!  "  And  with  that  de- 
cision he  started  toward  the  outer  door. 

"  But  Allie !  "  protested  Zoie,  really  alarmed 
by  the  look  that  she  saw  on  his  face. 

Alfred  turned  to  his  trembling  wife  with  sup- 
pressed excitement,  and  patted  her  shoulder  con- 
descendingly. 

"  Control  yourself,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  Con- 
trol yourself;  I'll  get  your  babies  for  you — trust 
me,  I'll  get  them.  And  then,"  he  added  with 
parting  emphasis  from  the  doorway,  "  I'll  settle 
with  Jimmy!  " 

By  uncovering  one  eye,  Jimmy  could  now  per- 
ceive that  Zoie  and  Aggie  were  engaged  in  a 
heated  argument  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room.  By  uncovering  one  ear  he  learned  that 
they  were  arranging  a  line  of  action  for  him  im- 
mediatety  upon  his  reappearance.  He  determined 
not  to  wait  for  the  details. 

Fixing  himself  cautiously  on  all  fours,  and 
making  sure  that  he  was  well  covered  by  the  pink 
comforter,  he  began  to  crawl  slowly  toward  the 
bedroom  door. 

Turning  away  from  Aggie  with  an  impatient 
exclamation,  Zoie  suddenly  beheld  what  seemed  to 
her  a  large  pink  monster  with  protruding  claws 


Baby    Mine  233 

wriggling   its    way    hurriedly    toward    the    inner 
room. 

"  Look !  "  she  screamed,  and  pointing  in  hor- 
ror toward  the  dreadful  creature  now  dragging 
itself  across  the  threshold,  she  sank  fainting  into 
Aggie's  outstretched  arms. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

HAVING  dragged  the  limp  form  of  her  friend 
to  the  near-by  couch,  Aggie  was  bending  over  her 
to  apply  the  necessary  restoratives,  when  Alfred 
returned  in  triumph.  He  was  followed  by  the 
officer  in  whose  arms  were  three  infants,  and  be- 
hind whom  was  the  irate  O'Flarety,  the  hysteri- 
cal Italian  woman,  and  last  of  all,  Maggie. 

"  Bring  them  all  in  here,  officer,"  called  Alfred 
over  his  shoulder.  "  I'll  soon  prove  to  you  whose 
babies  those  are."  Then  turning  to  Aggie,  who 
stood  between  him  and  the  fainting  Zoie  he  cried 
triumphantly,  "  I've  got  them  Aggie,  I've  got 
them."  He  glanced  toward  the  empty  bed. 
"  Where's  Zoie?  "  he  asked. 

"  She's  fainted,"  said  Aggie,  and  stepping  from 
in  front  of  the  young  wife,  she  pointed  toward  the 
couch. 

"  Oh,  my  darling !  "  cried  Alfred,  with  deep 
concern  as  he  rushed  to  Zoie  and  began  franti- 
cally patting  her  hands.  "  My  poor  frightened 
darling ! "  Then  he  turned  to  the  officer,  his 
sense  of  injury  welling  high  within  him,  "You 
see  what  these  people  have  done  to  my  wife? 
She's  fainted."  Ignoring  the  uncomplimentary 
remarks  of  O'Flarety,  he  again  bent  over  Zoie. 
234, 


Baby   Mine  235 

"  Rouse  yourself,  my  dear,"  he  begged  of  her. 
"  Look  at  me,"  he  pleaded.  "  Your  babies  are 
safe." 

"  Her  babies ! "  snorted  O'Flarety,  unable 
longer  to  control  his  pent  up  indignation. 

"  I'll  let  you  know  when  I  want  to  hear  from 
you,"  snarled  the  officer  to  O'Flarety. 

"  But  they're  not  her  babies,"  protested  the 
Italian  woman  desperately. 

"  Cut  it,"  shouted  the  officer,  and  with  low 
mutterings,  the  outraged  parents  were  obliged 
to  bide  their  time. 

Lifting  Zoie  to  a  sitting  posture  Alfred  fanned 
her  gently  until  she  regained  her  senses.  "  Your 
babies  are  all  right,"  he  assured  her.  "  I've 
brought  them  all  back  to  you." 

"  All? "  gasped  Zoie  weakly,  and  she  won- 
dered what  curious  fate  had  been  intervening  to 
assist  Alfred  in  such  a  prodigious  undertaking. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Alfred,  "  every  one,"  and  he 
pointed  toward  the  three  infants  in  the  officer's 
arms.  "  See,  dear,  see." 

Zoie  turned  her  eyes  upon  what  seemed  to  her 
numberless  red  faces.  "  Oh ! "  she  moaned  and 
again  she  swooned. 

"  I  told  you  she'd  be  afraid  to  face  us,"  shouted 
the  now  triumphant  O'Flarety. 

"  You  brute !  "  retorted  the  still  credulous  Al- 
fred, "  how  dare  you  persecute  this  poor  demented 
mother?  " 


236  Baby  Mine 

Alfred's  persistent  solicitude  for  Zoie  was  too 
much  for  the  resentful  Italian  woman. 

"  She  didn't  persecute  me,  oh  no ! "  she  ex- 
claimed sarcastically. 

"  Keep  still,  you !  "  commanded  the  officer. 

Again  Zoie  was  reviving  and  again  Alfred  lifted 
her  in  his  arms  and  begged  her  to  assure  the  offi- 
cer that  the  babies  in  question  were  hers. 

"  Let's  hear  her  say  it,"  demanded  O'Flarety. 

"  You  shall  hear  her,"  answered  Alfred,  with 
confidence.  Then  he  beckoned  to  the  officer  to 
approach,  explaining  that  Zoie  was  very  weak. 

"  Sure,"  said  the  officer ;  then  planting  himself 
directly  in  front  of  Zoie's  half  closed  eyes,  he 
thrust  the  babies  upon  her  attention. 

"  Look,  Zoie !  "  pleaded  Alfred.     "  Look !  " 

Zoie  opened  her  eyes  to  see  three  small  red 
faces  immediately  opposite  her  own. 

"  Take  them  away !  "  she  cried,  with  a  frantic 
wave  of  her  arm,  "  take  them  away !  " 

"  What  ?  "   exclaimed   Alfred   in   astonishment. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  shouted  O'Flarety. 
This  hateful  reminder  brought  Alfred  again  to 
the  protection  of  his  young  and  defenceless  wife. 

"  The  excitement  has  unnerved  her,"  he  said 
to  the  officer. 

"  Ain't  you  about  done  with  my  kids  ?  "  asked 
O'Flarety,  marvelling  how  any  man  with  so  little 
penetration  as  the  officer,  managed  to  hold  down 
a  "good  payin'  job." 


Baby   Mine  237 

"  What  do  you  want  for  your  proof  anyway?  " 
asked  the  mother.  But  Alfred's  faith  in  the  va- 
lidity of  his  new  parenthood  was  not  to  be  so 
easily  shaken. 

"  My  wife  is  in  no  condition  to  be  questioned," 
he  declared.  "  She's  out  of  her  head,  and  if  you 
don't " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  for  without  warning,  the 
door  was  thrown  open  and  a  second  officer  strode 
into  their  midst  dragging  by  the  arm  the  reluc- 
tant Jimmy. 

"  I  guess  I've  got  somethin'  here  that  you  folks 
need  in  your  business,"  he  called,  nodding  toward 
the  now  utterly  demoralised  Jimmy. 

"  Jimmy !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  having  at  last 
got  her  breath. 

"  The  Joker ! "  cried  Alfred,  bearing  down 
upon  the  panting  Jimmy  with  a  ferocious  expres- 
sion. 

"  I  caught  him  slipping  down  the  fire-escape," 
explained  the  officer. 

"  Again?  "  exclaimed  Aggie  and  Alfred  in  tones 
of  deep  reproach. 

"  Jimmy,"  said  Alfred,  coming  close  to  his 
i'riend,  and  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him  in  a  deter- 
mined effort  to  control  the  poor  creature's  fast 
failing  faculties,  "  you  know  the  truth  of  this 
thing.  You  are  the  one  who  sent  me  that  tele- 
gram, you  are  the  one  who  told  me  that  I  was  a 
father." 


238  Baby  Mine 

"  Well,  aren't  you  a  father  ?  "  asked  Aggie, 
trying  to  protect  her  dejected  spouse. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  replied  Alfred,  with  every 
confidence,  "  but  I  have  to  prove  it  to  the  offi- 
cer. Jimmy  knows,"  he  concluded.  Then  turn- 
ing to  the  uncomfortable  man  at  his  side,  he  de- 
manded imperatively,  "  Tell  the  officer  the  truth, 
you  idiot.  No  more  of  your  jokes.  Am  I  a 
father  or  am  I  not?  " 

"  If  you're  depending  on  me  for  your  future 
offspring,"  answered  Jimmy,  wagging  his  head 
with  the  air  of  a  man  reckless  of  consequences, 
"  you  are  not  a  father." 

"  Depending  on  you?  "  gasped  Alfred,  and  he 
stared  at  his  friend  in  bewilderment.  "  What  do 
you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Ask  them,"  answered  Jimmy,  and  he  nodded 
toward  Zoie  and  Aggie. 

Alfred  appealed  to  Aggie. 

"  Ask  Zoie,"  said  Aggie. 

Alfred  bent  over  the  form  of  the  again  pros- 
trate Zoie.  "  My  darling,"  he  entreated,  "  rouse 
yourself."  Slowly  she  opened  her  eyes.  "  Now," 
said  Alfred,  with  enforced  self-control,  "  you 
must  look  the  officer  squarely  in  the  eye  and  tell 
him  whose  babies  those  are,"  and  he  nodded  to- 
ward the  officer,  who  was  now  beginning  to  enter- 
tain grave  doubts  on  the  subject. 

"How  should  7  know?"  cried  Zoie,  too  ex- 
hausted for  further  lying. 


Baby    Mine  239 

"What!"  exclaimed  Alfred,  his  hand  on  his 
forehead. 

"  I  only  borrowed  them,"  said  Zoie,  "  to  get 
you  home,"  and  with  that  she  sank  back  on  the 
couch  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you?  "  cried  the  triumphant 
O'Flarety. 

"  I  guess  they're  your'n  all  right,"  admitted 
the  officer  doggedly,  and  he  grudgingly  released 
the  three  infants  to  their  rightful  parents. 

"  I  guess  they'd  better  be,"  shouted  O'Flarety ; 
then  he  and  the  Italian  woman  made  for  the  door 
with  their  babes  pressed  close  to  their  hearts. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  cried  Alfred.  "  I  want  an 
understanding." 

O'Flarety  turned  in  the  doorway  and  raised  a 
warning  fist. 

"  If  you  don't  leave  my  kids  alone,  you'll  git 
'  an  understanding.' ' 

"  Me  too,"  added  the  mother. 

"  On  your  way,"  commanded  the  officer  to  the 
pair  of  them,  and  together  with  Maggie  and  the 
officer,  they  disappeared  forever  from  the  Hardy 
household. 

Alfred  gazed  about  the  room.  "  My  God ! " 
he  exclaimed;  then  he  turned  to  Jimmy  who  was 
still  in  the  custody  of  the  second  officer:  "If  I'm 
not  a  father,  what  am  I  ?  " 

"  I'd  hate  to  tell  you,"  was  Jimmy's  unsym- 
pathetic reply,  and  in  utter  dejection  Alfred  sank 


240  Baby  Mine 

on  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  buried  his  head  in  his 
hands. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  this  one,  sir?  "  asked  the 
officer,  undecided  as  to  Jimmy's  exact  standing  in 
the  household. 

"  Shoot  him,  for  all  I  care,"  groaned  Alfred, 
and  he  rocked  to  and  fro. 

"  How  ungrateful !  "  exclaimed  Aggie,  then  she 
signalled  to  the  officer  to  go. 

"  No  more  of  your  funny  business,"  said  the 
officer  with  a  parting  nod  at  Jimmy  and  a  vindic- 
tive light  in  his  eyes  when  he  remembered  the 
bruises  that  Jimmy  had  left  on  his  shins. 

"  Oh,  Jimmy !  "  said  Aggie  sympathetically, 
and  she  pressed  her  hot  face  against  his  round 
apoplectic  cheek.  "  You  poor  dear !  And  after 
all  you  have  done  for  us !  " 

"  Yes,"  sneered  Zoie,  having  regained  sufficient 
strength  to  stagger  to  her  feet,  "  he's  done  a  lot, 
hasn't  he?  "  And  then  forgetting  that  her  origi- 
nal adventure  with  Jimmy  which  had  brought 
about  such  disastrous  results  was  still  unknown 
to  Aggie  and  Alfred,  she  concluded  bitterly,  "  All 
this  would  never  have  happened,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Jimmy  and  his  horrid  old  luncheon." 

Jimmy  was  startled.  This  was  too  much, 
and  just  as  he  had  seemed  to  be  well  out  of  com- 
plications for  the  remainder  of  his  no  doubt  short 
life.  He  turned  to  bolt  for  the  door  but  Aggie's 
eyes  were  upon  him. 


Baby   Mine  241 

"  Luncheon? "  exclaimed  Aggie  and  she  re- 
garded him  with  a  puzzled  frown. 

Zoie's  hand  was  already  over  her  lips,  but  too 
late. 

Recovering  from  his  somewhat  bewildering  sense 
of  loss,  Alfred,  too,  was  now  beginning  to  sit  up 
and  take  notice. 

"  What  luncheon  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Zoie  gazed  from  Alfred  to  Aggie,  then  at 
Jimmy,  then  resolving  to  make  a  clean  breast  of 
the  matter,  she  sidled  toward  Alfred  with  her 
most  ingratiating  manner. 

"  Now,  Alfred,"  she  purred,  as  she  endeavoured 
to  get  one  arm  about  his  unsuspecting  neck,  "  if 
you'll  only  listen,  I'll  tell  you  the  real  truth" 

A  wild  despairing  cry  from  Alfred,  a  dash  to- 
ward the  door  by  Jimmy,  and  a  determined  effort 
on  Aggie's  part  to  detain  her  spouse,  temporarily 
interrupted  Zoie's  narrative. 

But  in  spite  of  these  discouragements,  Zoie  did 
eventually  tell  Alfred  the  real  truth,  and  before 
the  sun  had  risen  on  the  beginning  of  another  day, 
she  had  added  to  her  confession,  promises  whose 
happy  fulfillment  was  evidenced  for  many  years 
after  by  the  chatter  of  glad  young  voices,  up  and 
down  the  stairway  of  Alfred's  new  suburban 
home,  and  the  flutter  of  golden  curls  in  and  out 
amongst  the  sunlight  and  shadows  of  his  ample, 
well  kept  grounds. 

THE   END 


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Money   Moon,  The.     By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

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Much  Ado  About  Peter.     By  Jean  Webster. 

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Refugees,  The.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

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Road  to  Providence,  The.    By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

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Story  of  the  Outlaw,  The.    By  Emerson  Hough. 

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Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Tennessee  Shad,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 

Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Texican,  The.     By  Dane  Coolidge. 

That  Printer  of  Udeli's.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Three   Brothers,  The.     By  Eden  Phillpotts. 

Throwback,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Thurston   of  Orchard  Valley.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Title  Market,  The.     By  Emiiy  Post. 

Torn  Sails.    A  Tale  of  a  Welsh  Village.    By  Allen  Raine. 

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Treasure  of  Heaven,  The.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

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Uncle  William.     By  Jennette  Lee. 

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Where  the  Trail  Divides.     By  Will  Lillibridge. 

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Window  at  the  White  Cat,  The.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rhinehart. 

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Woman   in  Question,  The.     By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Woman  in  the  Alcove,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

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